


Five Thousand Miles

by adelaide_rain



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8066638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelaide_rain/pseuds/adelaide_rain
Summary: "McGarrett? This a drunk dial? What time is it over there?"Steve laughs, and it makes Danny smile, despite himself. "It’s, uh. Late. Early. How’re you doing, Danny?""I’m-" In the middle of a crime scene, still pissed at you, still heartbroken, but it’s good to hear your voice, so good, "-okay. You?"





	1. Chapter 1

New York in January is goddamn miserable.

As Danny steps out of the precinct and heads to his car, he glares at the sky. It’s weighed down by a blanket of white clouds that threaten yet more snow later, and that? That is something that he does not need. He doesn’t need the cold, the ice, or the early dark, either.

“I know that look,” says his partner, Maddie Morris, as she goes over to the passenger side. “That’s your ‘I miss Hawai’i’ look.”

Danny glares at her, and is struck once more by how _young_ she is. His junior partner, straight off the beat, cute as a button with black curly hair, dark eyes, brown skin. She’s young, looks even younger, and she brings out Danny’s paternal side like a smack to the head sometimes. She’s good at her job, damn good, with the kind of sharp eyes and deductive skills that are going to make her one of NYPD’s best. Right now though, Danny could do with a little less of the smarts.

“I miss Hawai’i like a hole in the head,” he says, but she just laughs as they get in the car. Whether or not Danny misses Hawai’i, there are some things he definitely prefers over on the east coast, and being able to drive his own car is one of them.

“Sure, boss,” Maddie says. “I can tell, especially when you’ve had a couple of beers and come over all maudlin.”

“Maudlin!?” He casts her a cool glance as he fastens his seat belt, then pulls out into traffic. “Maudlin is for Jane Austin heroines, alright? Not badass NYPD detectives.”

Maddie chuckles to herself, grins out of the window. “Oh yeah? Then maybe I misinterpreted your tone of voice when you were talking about Steve McGarrett last night.”

Danny’s jaw clenches, and he says, “You clearly did,” a little too sharply. She frowns at him, and he instantly regrets it, but Steve – Steve is a sore point. Sore as in, makes his heart ache, it’s been nine months but it still hurts – and yeah, alright, it makes him maudlin. He thought that screwing around with Steve meant more than it did, but in the end, Steve chose Cath over him, Rachel dragged Grace and Charlie back here, and that was that. Over and done with, if there was ever anything there in the first place.

“How’s it going with Ben?” Maddie asks, changing the subject, and Danny tries not to sigh.

“It isn’t.”

She looks over at him. “I thought it was going well.”

“It was. Apart from. You know.” He looks over at her as they pull up to a red light. “Me being maudlin over another man.”

Her eyebrows raise slightly and she shakes her head. “For what it’s worth, I thought Ben was a jerk. Someone who’s late like that to every single date doesn’t respect you.”

“Great ass, though,” he says, and she bursts out laughing. The slight tension in the car melts away, and Danny is glad. The two of them get along well, and he doesn’t want to let anything spoil that, especially not a ghost from his past.

When he turns the corner, the blue and whites at the end of the block, lights flashing, show him where he needs to go. Pulling up behind them, he gets out of the car and is instantly approached by a cop in a neatly pressed uniform.

“Detective Williams,” he says, and Danny recognises the hero worship shining in his eyes. The cops of the NYPD fall two ways on his having been part of Five-0. Either hero worship, like this guy, believing all the hype – of which, Danny never admits, a shocking amount is true. Yes, he did help to stop a smallpox epidemic, a nuclear explosion, a rogue drone shooting up Honolulu, can we please move on? The other guys figure he’s arrogant, cocky, like he should just go back to Hawai’i, and Danny feels like a haole all over again.

“Officer O’Reilly,” Danny says, reading his name tag. “What’ve we got?”

O’Reilly leads them into the building, a squat warehouse tucked behind the main street. CSU are already inside, taking photographs, dusting for prints, taking measurements. The main event is clear: a body sprawled out in the middle of the floor, lying in a pool of blood. GSW to the back, looks like, Danny thinks as he circles the scene, staying out of CSU’s way. Lot of damage – large calibre, most likely.

“It was called in this morning by the security guard,” O’Reilly says. “I asked if he recognised the vic but he says he didn’t even look – didn’t even touch the body. I think he’s still throwing up out back.”

Danny nods, glances up and around the room. There’s a lot of machinery, hulking shadows in the low light, and he couldn’t even take a guess as to what they’re for. But there’s also cameras, and Danny really, really hopes they’re not just for show.

“Where’d you say the security guard was?”

Turns out the cameras work perfectly. Skimming through the videos, right around midnight, they find what they’re looking for. A perfect view of the murder, but not the murderer. Of course not; that would be too easy. There are a couple of partial views, enough to see that the perp is male, white, tall, dark-haired. The tech team will do what they can, Danny knows, but he isn’t feeling too hopeful.

He puts his hope on the vic instead; if there’s a motive behind this other than a random act of violence, it might lead to the killer. No ID, but CSU’s already sent their photos back to the lab. They wait for the ME, whose initial findings match Danny’s guess and the footage from the security cameras – high calibre weapon, close range.

“So what now?” Danny asks, turning to Maddie, who startles visibly at the question, blinking at him. Realising it’s a test, she pauses to think.

“We wait for the tech team to analyse the video. Try and get an ID on our vic. Maybe a match on the slug.” She licks her lips, thinks a little more. “Canvas the neighbourhood, see if anyone heard or saw anything. See if there’s any other cameras on the street that might have caught our perp coming or going.”

Danny smiles, feeling proud of her. “Right. And that gives us something to do while CSU does their thing.”

Feeling a vibration in his pocket, he pulls out his phone – and freezes. The number isn’t programmed into his phone, but he knows the area code. 808. Hawai’i.

“Danny?”

Maddie’s voice – her worried frown – makes him realise that he’s just been staring at his phone. It could be about an old case, maybe, probably. It’s about to go to voicemail, and since calling back would be even harder than answering, he hits the green button and thinks _oh jesus_.

“Detective Williams.”

A moment of silence. “Hey, Danny.”

Steve. Oh, jesus christ. He sounds rough, maybe a bit tired. He sounds – he sounds fucking gorgeous, and Danny remembers what that voice was like whispering in his ear, moaning, and god, if this isn’t the most inappropriate response possible?

“McGarrett? This a drunk dial? What time is it over there?”

Steve laughs, and it makes Danny smile, despite himself. “It’s, uh. Late. Early. How’re you doing, Danny?”

“I’m-” In the middle of a crime scene, still pissed at you, still heartbroken, but it’s good to hear your voice, so good, “-okay. You?”

“Well, you know. Honolulu’s still standing, so I’m doing something right.”

Danny smiles, again, then makes the mistake of looking at Maddie, who is _grinning_ at him. He tries to shoo her away with his hand, but she plays oblivious, staying where she is. “Or the rest of the team is, anyway. They keeping you under control?”

“They’re trying. You know how it is.”

“Oh, Steven, yes, I know very well how it is. I have nightmares, still, about trying to stop your insanity.”

Another pause; Danny wishes he could see Steve’s face, read his expression. “You dream about me, D?”

His voice doesn’t tell Danny much; the way his own traitorous heart is hammering against his ribs tells him plenty. Clenching his jaw, he steels himself. He doesn’t blame Steve for thinking what they had was just physical – or rather, he _does_ blame him, but knows it’s irrational. If they’d ever actually _talked_ about it-

But they didn’t.

And Steve chose Cath over him, and Danny is five thousand miles away now, hasn’t heard from Steve for most of a year. So this flirting? It needs to stop.

“You didn’t answer my question, Steve. Is this a social call? Because if it is, I’m kind of in the middle of a crime scene right now.”

Another one of those mysterious pauses. “Actually, I was hoping you could give me some information that might be relevant to a case we’re working.”

Danny starts laughing. There’s a hysterical edge to it, and he turns away from Maddie, who’s flat-out staring at him.

“Danny?” Steve asks, and Danny laughs harder.

“Oh, man,” he says, smiling, but there’s little real humour in it. “I see how it is. Cath replaced me, now I’m replacing her in the whole information department? I have to say, I’m not exactly Naval Intelligence here.”

An intake of breath. “She didn’t – she could never replace you, Danny.”

Danny stares at a spot of white paint on the floor in front of him, feeling his heartbeat race, a little anger, a little sadness and a traitorous bit of hope all mixed in together.

“Yeah, well. She did though, didn’t she?” Danny says, voice dripping with bitterness. “Look, what do you want, can it wait? I need to canvas the neighbourhood, see if there are any witnesses while it’s still fresh.”

“I – it can wait until the morning. The morning here, I mean. Six hours?”

“Sure,” Danny says, and hangs up. Which was, sure, not the most mature thing to do, but Danny’s at the end of his dealing-with-Steve-McGarrett tether. Nine months away from him means he’s out of practice.

“Danny,” Maddie says, stepping closer. Worry is bright in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Danny says, and knows that she knows he isn’t. “It’s a work thing, but it’s stupidly late over there. Let’s just focus on the case for now.”

She bites her lip, and Danny can see the questions behind her eyes, but she nods and follows him out onto the street. She doesn’t know much about Steve, not really. She knows that he was Danny’s partner, that they did all kinds of crazy shit together in Five-0. And one night, when they were both more than a little drunk after a particularly nasty case, she came out to him, telling him about her girlfriend and clearly terrified about what his reaction would be. He told her that he gets it, he’s bi, that he and Steve were more than just colleagues. Without the booze, he’d probably have told her about being bi, but the Steve bit – they never even told the rest of Five-0 about that. They probably guessed, they were cops after all - and they had eyes – but Maddie was the first person he’s actually out-and-out told.

“Alright,” she says, and puts a hand on his arm. “If you need to talk, you know I’m here.”

“Thanks,” he says, smiling weakly and knowing he’s not going to take her up on it.

They walk the streets for a bit, finding few cameras. Most of the shops nearby close early, the owners insisting that they heard and saw nothing from their little apartments up above. It’s frustrating as hell, even more so because Danny knows he’s distracted.

After an hour, he suggests they take a break, get something to eat.

There’s a diner a few blocks away that does great eggs, so Danny leads the way. A proper New York place, the kind they put in the movies. Neon and chrome on the outside, barstools and booths on the inside. Too far uptown for many tourists to find means it’s quiet, though the snow and the threat of more on the way might have something to do with that.

“If anyone saw anything, they’re not talking,” Danny says as they slide into a booth. “We’ll just have to see what the ME and CSU can come up with.”

Maddie nods. “Hopefully it’s something.”

The waitress comes over with menus and life-giving coffee – dark, strong stuff that Danny wants to drink a gallon of. He orders the whole shebang – eggs, hash browns, sausage, toast, plus grilled tomatoes and mushrooms as a half-hearted nod towards being healthy. Maddie gets pancakes with blueberries, and the joy on her face when they’re brought over makes her look even younger.

“You had Grace and Charlie over the weekend, right?” She asks between mouthfuls of pancake. “Get up to anything fun?”

“Building snowmen, mostly. Charlie’s not really seen snow before moving here. There’s none in Hawai’i – on O’ahu, anyway – and the fancy ski resorts Stan took them to weren’t exactly snowmen kinda places.”

“He have fun?”

“Did he ever,” Danny says, and starts showing her photos on his phone.

She asks a few more things about the weekend, tells Danny about hers, and very carefully avoids any mention of Steve or the phone call. He’s grateful, even if it doesn’t stop him thinking about it.

A call from CSU pulls them back to the precinct. They’ve got an ID on their vic: a low level drug dealer named Jonny Viano. Booked a couple times, mostly for possession, and he’s got traces of amphetamine in his blood.

“Any luck with IDing the perp?” Danny asks, not hopeful, and the techie shakes his head.

“Sorry. This guy knew what he was doing. Didn’t touch anything, avoided the cameras, policed his brass. If you get a suspect, we might be able to confirm from the video, but it’s not going to be anything that’ll stand up in court.”

“Fantastic.”

What they do get is an address for Jonny Viano, out in Newark. Danny drives them there down the streets he learned to be a cop on. It’s weird, and he’s not sure he likes it. It only serves to remind him that he’s a very different person these days, of how much has changed. Being back here feels like trying to put on old clothes that are out of style and don’t fit. 

They call into his old precinct, more out of courtesy than anything else. It’s tiny compared to the 20th in Manhattan, quieter. Danny recognises faces as he walks in, still sitting in the same places they were seven years ago, looking much the same save for more wrinkles around the eyes and a few more grey hairs.

After brief chats with people Danny hasn’t talked to in years, they check in with the captain, let him know they’ll be in the area, and are on their way.

Back in the car, Maddie looks over at him. “You always do that? Check in with the PD if you’re away from the city?”

“Not always,” Danny shrugs. “When I worked over here, we were in and out of New York all the time. Only said hi if I knew someone in the area. But considering I worked here for ten years, it would’ve been kinda rude to ignore them.”

“What about in Five-0?”

Danny gives her a glance, a little harder than he means to. It’s an innocent question. “Five-0’s the equivalent of state police, and the governor’s task force at that. We were, ah, a little different. Mostly we worked out of Honolulu and on the whole we had a good relationship with the PD there. Occasionally we worked the other islands, and we’d check in with the local departments. Especially with what we did – you never knew when you’d need backup.”

“Hopefully we won’t need backup just searching a vic’s apartment,” she says, and Danny shakes his head.

“It can be dangerous, Maddie, and not always the way you expect. The threats don’t always come from bad guys with guns. I ever tell you about the time I got exposed to sarin?”

_”What?”_

“We were chasing a guy with a gun – and the most terrible haircut you’ve ever seen, believe me – but he gets away. In the house I see a body laid out, I check the pulse, next thing I know I can’t breathe.” Danny thinks of the way Steve looked at him, the fear and panic in his eyes, an image permanently etched on his memory. “Lucky we had a CIA agent with us at the time who knew her stuff, knew how to treat it. If she hadn’t, I’d’ve been a goner.”

“Wow,” Maddie says, shaking her head. “I had no idea Hawai’i was so dangerous.”

Danny has to laugh at that.

It’s started to snow by the time they pull up outside Viano’s place, big, slow flakes dancing their way to the ground. The building has seen better days; the exterior’s crumbling, the interior not much better. There’s graffiti on the walls, and suspicious eyes peek through cracked-open doors as the landlord leads the way, loudly muttering unpleasant things about his tenants as he goes.

Inside the apartment, Danny has to all but push him out to give him and Maddie some peace.

He looks at her as she scans the room from the hall. She’s looking carefully, taking everything in – the crocheted blanket on the sofa, the bong on the shelf, the ancient TV with a pile of VHS tapes next to it – jeez, will she even know what they are?

“What are you thinking?” Danny asks her, and she gives him a smile.

“That I’m scared to touch anything.”

“Because of my little sarin story or because this place is pretty gross?”

“Both.”

“Gloves on,” Danny tells her, pulling his own out. “That’s the lesson you should take from my story.”

She nods, does so, and steps into the room.

“Now, tell me what you’re seeing.”

She walks the room, not touching much but looking plenty. “I’d say he lives alone. There’s no pictures of family or friends anywhere – maybe he’s not close to anyone. The bong – well, that’s not entirely unexpected, is it?” She goes over to it, shifts a pile of papers with a finger and finds a baggie underneath it. “Neither’s that.”

“Could have a prescription,” Danny says and shrugs. “And that amount, no-one’s going to really care about.”

She keeps walking, pointing out this and that, making assumptions. Danny tells her it’s good to notice things, to keep in mind the story they’re telling, but don’t let any ideas get concrete. Keep it malleable, be open to change.

Like, for example, when she warily lifts the lid of his laundry hamper and finds it filled to the brim with guns. Kind of throws the previous loser-stoner profile into the drink.

They finish the walk around and find some drugs, but nothing worth killing over. The guns, though – they’re a different matter. CSU comes to do their thing, while Danny and Maddie go back to the office to look over Jonny’s previous arrest files, look into accomplices, known associates. They get so into it that when his phone starts ringing it startles him out of his zone. He stares down at it, sees the 808 number and thinks, _shit_.

Swallowing, he tells himself that it’s a work thing and answers. “Williams.”

“Hey, Danny,” Steve says again, and again, longing and lust slam into Danny like a truck. “How’s the case going?”

“Badly. But the reading-five-hundred-reports-searching-for-a-clue kind of badly, as opposed to the getting-shot-at kind, so there’s that.”

“I’m glad. That you’re not getting shot at, I mean.”

“Yeah. Me too. It’s a nice reprieve from working with you,” and Danny just can’t help himself. The instant he talks to Steve, there’s that connection, that attraction, and the flirtatious banter comes too naturally. Why is it so hard to stay mad at him? Or maybe it’s just that Danny’s finally realised that he never really had a good reason for it.

“You not being here means I have to do my own paperwork, so I can’t say the same,” Steve says, his voice light, and Danny can all too easily imagine his grin.

“Aw, babe, that sounds _so_ awful,” Danny says, wincing at the _babe_ that slips out, and the look Maddie throws at him for it.

“You have no idea,” Steve says, seriously. “The others refuse to help me. And if I try to order them to do it, they just laugh at me. Especially Lou.”

“Wow, Steve, I always knew you had big balls but damn.” Perfect, yes, excellent topic of conversation with his sort-of ex. There's a pause, and Danny wonders if Steve feels as awkward as he does. He coughs, and avoids looking at Maddie. “Anyway.”

“Anyway.”

“You, uh. Called because of a case or something?”

“Oh. Yeah. We’ve had a new gang come into the islands, drug runners. They’re all over the mainland, and you arrested one of their heads six months ago.” Danny sits up straighter. He instantly knows who Steve’s talking about.

“Harold Yale?”

“Yeah, exactly. What can you tell me about him?”

“He’s a cold son of a bitch. Very, uh, business minded. When I got here they thought he was just an accountant – in on it, yeah, but not a big fish.”

“You proved them wrong?”

“Not exactly. Vice wanted him on drug charges, but he was never going to slip. I got him for murder, which Vice wasn’t particularly happy about but he’s in jail now, life no parole. One more bad guy off the streets. Unfortunately this gang is a monster with a whole bunch of heads.”

“You know who might be dealing with this Pacific expansion?”

“Sorry, no. But our friend Harold might be willing to talk.”

“Oh?”

“He’s not impressed with the people running the shots. He views this as his legacy, you know – and the people he’s not impressed with, he’s willing to roll on them for an extra visit from his wife and kids. I can go see him tomorrow-“

“No. Look, Danny, if there’s a chance this guy might give us what we need to stop this, I want to speak to him myself.”

Danny sits up straighter, glaring at a pad of sticky notes in lieu of Steve. “Oh my god, seriously? Are you being serious right now?”

“I’m very serious, Danny, I-”

“Remember all those times I told you that you’ve got control issues? All those many, many times? In the Camaro, in couple’s therapy-“ Danny stops when he realises he’s at least halfway to yelling, and most of the bullpen is staring at him. Nine months apart, nine months and Steve still does this to him.

“I know. And it’s not that I don’t trust you-“

“Hah.”

“-But I need to do this.”

“Because you _have control issues._ There is no need to fly five thousand miles just to ask a guy questions he might not answer.”

“He’ll answer me.”

“Stop. Stop, okay? You don’t have immunity and means over here. You try anything – anything, okay? – and you will be arrested. Denning’s authority doesn’t count for shit over here. Even if he managed to get you off for whatever hare-brained nonsense you pull, you’ll be sitting in jail for weeks, maybe months while they get all the paperwork sorted. Did you really like your stint in Halawa that much?”

And then Steve, the asshole, laughs. Loud. Joyful.

“The hell?” Danny asks, and then Steve says,

“God, I miss you, Danny.” 

Like he has any right to say that.

Danny sits stock still as he gets set upon by a whole gang of different emotions. Anger punches him in the face, loss and loneliness are twin gut punches. Bitterness gets him in the kidneys, hope smacks him across the head, and lust – well, lust knees him right between the legs, obviously. Something he doesn’t want to name seems to get a hand around his heart, right through the ribs, and squeezes tight.

“Huh,” Danny manages.

Silence, like Steve doesn’t know quite what to make of Danny’s response.

“Anyway,” Steve says eventually. “I need to see this guy in person. Talk to some of the others you name in your report. I’ll do anything I have to if it’ll stop these guys from getting a foothold here.”

“Yeah,” Danny says, and rubs his eyes. “I know you will. Just – look, let me know when your flight gets in, okay? I’ll pick you up.”

“…You sure?”

“Yeah. And I’ll talk to my captain. Convince her to give you backup if you need it. Someone to help you out.” Danny wonders if Steve can hear the ghost of his own voice, years ago, saying _you’re my backup_ , because Danny sure can.

“I- Thanks, Danny. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah. Just text me your flight number. Try to find one that doesn’t get in at an ungodly hour.”

“No promises.”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I’ll see you soon, Steve.”

“I guess you will, Danno.”

Steve hangs up this time, possibly so that he can’t be yelled at for the _Danno_.

Thing is, Danny wouldn’t have yelled.

Sighing, he puts his phone on the desk and rubs at his eyes. Why are emotions so complicated?

By the time he opens them again, Maddie is staring at him, along with at least a handful of other cops.

“I gotta go speak to the captain,” Danny says, and Maddie watches him go, open-mouthed.

Captain Murphy is- _Not pleased,_ would be the nicest way of putting it. She knows all about Five-0, and Danny supposes he should be glad he was hired by her predecessor, because she would’ve kicked him out on his ass. She's a stickler for the rule book, hates bad press, and likes to stick to a tight budget. All things that are pretty much the polar opposite of what Steve McGarrett brings to the table.

“It’s just a couple of interviews,” Danny says. “Getting to know the organisation a bit, maybe pushing here and there. Nothing will happen.”

“Oh, of course, Detective,” she snarls. “Because nothing bad ever happens when renegade cops _push_ on drug runners.”

“Steve is not a renegade cop,” Danny snaps back. “Maybe he doesn’t follow the rules all the time, but he gets results, he’s good at what he does – he’s a good _person._ If this is going to stop an expansion of those bastards, he deserves all the support we can give him.”

“And can you babysit him while working your current case?”

“Of course I can,” Danny says immediately, with a confidence he doesn’t feel. Him, babysit Steve? Couldn’t _that_ just go wrong in a hundred thousand different ways. Not to mention his case, with these guns, might go off the rails at any moment. But if he says no, Murphy is going to deny backup to Steve, he knows it. So yes, of course he can. It’s the only answer.

“Then he’s your responsibility,” she says, and turns back to her computer. He’s clearly dismissed.

By the time he gets back to his desk, he has a text message with a flight numbers – direct from Honolulu to Newark. Gets in at 7:27am, which isn’t too bad, all things considered.

 _See you then_ he texts back, and gets a smiley face in return. Danny tries not to smile as he programs Steve’s number into his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is mostly finished, so I'm hoping to be posting on a weekly basis (most of the time). At this point in time, I'm planning for 23 chapters. 
> 
> For those who've read the notes on my other H50 fics, an update: I've finally seen all of season six xD Took a while but I got there in the end (fwiw, I liked 6.25. As for the rest of it, save for occasional episodes, well, all I can say is that I'm hoping season seven will be better).
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://raininginadelaide.tumblr.com/), for those who are interested.
> 
> And most importantly: Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Seeing Steve again is not what Danny was expecting.

After the phone calls, yeah, he got the idea that there was still a connection between them, but _seeing_ Steve again kind of feels like being in a car crash. But in a good way. Unexpected and disorienting, stealing his breath, making his pulse race, making him ache.

As Danny stands by the luggage carousels, he sees Steve emerge from the gate area, near the front of the herd. He's taller than pretty much all of them so he's easy to spot, and he's got his game face on, laser-focused in on Operation Get the Hell Out of Newark. The serious expression makes Danny's chest feel tight and warm, and his stomach's getting in on the action too. That _jawline,_ the shoulders, god. The touch of grey at his temples - that's always done things to Danny, even before he was willing to admit it.

And then he spots Danny and smiles, how had Danny forgotten those dazzling McGarrett smiles? The way his eyes light up make Danny feel weak, and man, as if it wasn’t obvious already, but Danny still has it so, so bad.

He's smiling back – he couldn't do anything else. Even though a month ago he was still so angry at Steve, so bitter, none of that matters now because he's _here_.

There's a little sensible voice in the back of his mind that points out no matter what else might happen, Steve lives five thousand miles away. Grace and Charlie are here and they come first, always and forever, so Danny is staying in New York. That's just the way it is.

But Steve's here right now and _look_ at him, the rest of him points out, loud as the roar of the ocean, drowning out all his eminently sensible doubts.

Steve comes over to stand before him, still grinning, and Danny grins right on back.

"Is that a suit, Danny?"

"This is what professionals wear, Steven," Danny says, tugging at the lapel beneath his coat. "You remember, I've told you about professionalism."

Steve laughs and fuck, that does nothing for the tiny parts of Danny that are still trying to remember what common sense is. And then he gives him such a fond look, soft and smiling, and Danny knows that he is completely and utterly fucked. "You look good, Danny. Really good."

"Not so bad yourself, Steve."

A pause, in which Steve licks his lips. "So. If I hug you, are you going to punch me again?"

Danny cocks his head, keeps his expression as unreadable as he can - which he suspects isn't very. "Who knows? You're just going to have to brave it."

Steve looks faux-thoughtful for all of five seconds and then he's pulling Danny tightly into his arms. It feels so good that Danny can't even breathe, everything in him rushing up and yelling _yes yes yes_. His arms go around Steve automatically, his face buried against his neck. He smells so good - not _actually_ good, not after a ten hour flight, but he smells like Steve, and there's nothing better.

"I missed you too," Danny murmurs into his neck, responding to Steve's hours-ago words . He's half-hoping Steve didn't hear, but from the way he tightens the hug, he's pretty sure he's busted.

They stay there for more long moments, drinking in the feeling of having each other in their arms, but eventually they pull apart. Steve looks as reluctant as Danny. As they stand there looking at each other, the baggage carousel finally kicks in with a loud, reluctant groan, and Danny nods towards it.

"You got a bag?"

Steve picks up the sand-coloured backpack he'd dropped when he hugged Danny. "Just this."

Eyeing what he's wearing – cargoes, t-shirt, shirt over the top – Danny lifts the spare coat he's still holding with a smug grin.

"I knew you'd need this."

Steve takes it from him, looking at it curiously. "What is it?"

"Seriously? What does it look like? I'll tell you what it looks like - the sort of thing that you wear in January in New York, that's what. It's snowing outside, Steve. I know you've seen snow before - at Annapolis, not to mention in a whole bunch of redacted locations."

Steve looks too pleased as he pulls on the coat, black with lots of pockets. "I really did miss you, Danny."

"Glad to hear it," Danny says, and jerks a thumb at the doors. "Let's get out of here, you know how much airport parking costs?"

They weave through the crowds and head for the parking lot. Danny nods at Steve's bag. "I'm surprised you only have a carry on. Even you can't get a weapon on a plane." Steve grins at him, and Danny narrows his eyes. "Steve-"

"No, Danny, I don’t have a secret arsenal hidden about my person. I was hoping to requisition something from your precinct."

"From my precinct?" Danny laughs, hard, his steps slowing. "Oh, babe, I can't wait to see the captain's reaction when you ask for a gun. Seriously, I need to be in there with you, it'll be the best laugh I've had in months."

"What? Why?"

"First of all, you're supposed to be here to question someone in Rikers, remember? They don't exactly let you take guns in there. Second, the captain does _not_ want you here."

They get to Danny's car, and Steve is distracted enough by the sight of a silver Camaro, and maybe all the memories it induces, that he doesn't reply for a moment. He touches the roof of the car and his soft smile makes Danny feel warm and fuzzy, right until he remembers that Steve's probably getting nostalgic about all the times he nearly killed them in Danny's dearly departed first Camaro.

"Nope," Danny says when Steve heads to the driver's side.

"Danny-"

"No. One, this is my car; two, you are not used to driving in this weather."

"I've driven in worse conditions than this," Steve says, but obediently goes over to the passenger side and gets in. "Wait - why does your captain not want me here? What have you been telling them?"

"She barely wants _me_ here, don't take it personally. So, where am I going? You got a hotel booked?"

Steve looks at him blankly. Apparently the thought of somewhere to sleep hadn't crossed his mind, and why is Danny surprised by that? "I'll find somewhere when I need to crash. Can I dump my bag at your desk ‘til then?"

Danny worries at his lower lip as he backs out of the space and heads out of the parking lot. He knows this is a bad idea. He and Steve need to talk; they have too much history and too much unsaid, there's too much simmering between them, but the words come trotting out anyway. "Look, my place is kind of on the way to the precinct. Leave your bag there until you find somewhere to stay - and take a shower, too, you smell like a long haul flight."

"That-" Steve stops and Danny's pretty sure he's looking at him with one of his many faces. Danny's still not quite sure he's up to seeing that yet, so he concentrates on driving as he pulls onto the freeway. "You sure, Danny?"

Danny shrugs. "I'm not sure about anything when it comes to you, Steve."

That little truthbomb shuts Steve up for a while, which is good because Danny has some thinking to do. Mostly about what the hell he's doing. He and Steve are - they're not anything. They're not together, they're not partners, they're not even-

Danny can't even bear to think that they're not even friends, because Steve is one of the best friends he's ever had, above everything and even now.

So they're friends, sort of, who haven't spoken in nine months, who've been pissed at each other for most of that. But hey, nothing about their relationship has ever been exactly what anyone would call normal.

And besides, this isn't anything, it's just giving Steve somewhere to dump his bag, although that's just a pretence and Danny knows it. By the end of the day, he'll be offering his spare room to Steve, he knows he will.

They've crossed the state border before Steve speaks again. "Tell me about your captain."

Danny glances at Steve and gives a one-shouldered shrug. "She likes rules, she likes order, and she likes people who follow procedure. She's basically you on Opposite Day."

"Ah."

"Exactly. So weird task forces halfway around the world with immunity and means? Not a fan."

"So why'd she hire you?" Steve flashes Danny an apologetic glance. "Not that she shouldn't have, you're an incredible cop, an even better partner. But with your history..."

"She didn't hire me, she inherited me when she took over the precinct two months ago. But hey; feel free to tell me more about how amazing I am."

Steve's quiet, and when Danny glances over at him, he sees Steve looking at him seriously, with a very Steve kind of intensity. The kind of intensity that makes his mouth dry, for various reasons.

"You _are_ amazing, Danny," he says softly. "I didn't realise just how amazing until you left."

"I-" Danny starts, and then stops. Does he want to go there now? At 8am with what's probably going to be a very long and possibly shitty day ahead of him? "Look, let's just - not. Maybe later. Right now, tell me about your case."

As they cross Staten Island and the Verrazano Bridge - paying yet another toll, Danny needs to remember to claim that back on expenses, this is work after all - Steve tells him about the situation back home and yeah, that does sound like Harold Yale’s gang. They’re called the 718 Crew, after the area code. Started in the mid-eighties, which explains the cheesy-as-hell name, and grew fast thanks to their huge balls and unwillingness to give a damn about authority. Harold’s been in it from the start, from what Danny can tell; it’s his baby. It’s always been strongly focused on the north east; there are pockets across the nation, mainly in the Midwest and out in California, but those are run by lieutenants who’ve worked in New York or Jersey for decades. A sudden leap out to Hawai’i is not their style, but the brazenness and the intimidation tactics are. The product, too, from what Steve tells him. 

“We’ll have to see what Harold says, take it from there,” Danny says as he pulls up on his street. 

Steve nods, but he doesn’t look happy about it. He gets out of the car when Danny does, looking around curiously. "This is Brooklyn, right?" 

"Yep. Fort Greene." Locking the car, Danny leads the way across the street to his building. It's a walk-up and he's on the top floor but as far as he's concerned that's a good thing. No upstairs neighbours, no one traipsing past his door at all hours of the day and night. And if he moans about the stairs sometimes - if his knee moans even louder - it's worth it to afford a three bed apartment.

"But I thought you worked in Manhattan?" 

Danny looks at him before starting to climb the stairs. "Okay, Steve, first of all, I don't even know when you last paid rent so don't pretend to know how it is. Second of all, New York makes Honolulu seem like a bargain. Third of all, this place is owned by my uncle. I get a discount, probably brought about by Ma’s threats, which means I can afford a place big enough for me and the kids. A three bed in Manhattan, you kidding me?” Danny winces as they hit the third flight of stairs and his knee protests loudly. “In Manhattan I couldn't afford that rathole I had when I first moved to Hawai'i." 

“Right,” Steve says, and Danny can hear the apology in his voice. “God, I didn’t think about the kids. How are they?”

Danny throws a grin over his shoulder. “Amazing, of course, as if you had to ask.” Finally they get to his apartment and he unlocks the door, steps inside. When Steve follows, Danny locks it behind him and leads him to a bookshelf, where a recent photo of Danny, Grace and Charlie sits. “Still my pride and joy, Steve.”

“God.” Steve’s voice is rough as he looks at it from Danny’s side, his smile pained and joyful all at the same time. “They both got so big.”

Danny looks at him, and he just feels – it’s like a suckerpunch, Steve’s expression. It’s not just Steve, it’s Uncle Steve, the man who took Grace out in the ocean when Danny just _couldn’t,_ who held her hand and cuddled her, who looked after her when Danny was sick or hurt or in jail. Who didn’t get the chance to know Charlie too well, but adored him anyway, accepted him as part of his ‘ohana as easily as breathing. Who loves Danny’s kids so fucking much, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that right now. 

So he clears his throat and looks away, bustles into the bathroom, throwing on lights and getting fresh towels. 

“Here,” he says. “You get a shower, I’ll go get us coffee, then we’ll head to the precinct, yeah? I told my partner I’d be late but I don’t wanna leave her on her own too long.”

Steve takes the towels and he’s giving Danny another look, damn him, so Danny gets the hell out of there while he can. 

As he closes the front door behind him, he’s suddenly aware that every muscle in his body is tense, on edge. Fight or flight. 

_Or fuck._

Rolling his eyes at that unhelpful addition, Danny crosses the road to the bakery that does the best coffee in the neighbourhood. It’s not Kona but it’s a lot better than the swill they have at the station. It’s also owned by Maddie’s girlfriend, Anna. She’s a sweet, smart woman who works miracles with flour and sugar, and sometimes gives him freebies. That’s always a win in Danny’s book. 

When he tells her he has a guest from Hawai'i visiting, she gives him a look that suggests she knows pretty much everything Steve’s ever been to him and gives him free superfood muffins without him even mentioning that Steve is a health nut. 

“And you tell him aloha from me, alright?” She says, and Danny’s lips twitch into a smile. 

“I will,” he promises, and slowly makes his way back up to the apartment. It’s been ten minutes or so, plenty of time for Steve to have his mandated three minute Navy shower and get changed, and wow, Danny did not need the image of a wet and naked Steve that just flashed in his brain. 

What he _needs_ is to get his thoughts back on track. Steve is here as a colleague. They have a job to do: catch the bad guys. The other stuff, that can come later, maybe, if at all, and they have _so_ much to work through before that can happen. The anger, the hurt is still simmering beneath the surface, along with so much more. But right now, work comes first. 

He tells himself that up every flight of stairs, and he’s almost convinced himself by the time he opens the door. But then Steve is standing in his living room with wet hair, wearing a fresh t-shirt and cargo pants. He’s looking at the photos on the other bookshelf, the one near the TV. The ones that Danny would have hidden if he’d known Steve would end up here. 

Swallowing, projecting as much nonchalance as he can muster, Danny goes over to him. 

“Got you some breakfast, too,” he says, putting the bag with the muffins down on the coffee table. “And before you say anything, they’re compliments of the baker to welcome you to New York. She told me to tell you aloha.”

That gets Steve looking at him, and Danny doesn’t know that face, can’t read it. So he comes over, offers him one of the cups in his hands. 

“It’s black; no grass fed butter, I’m afraid.”

Steve smiles and shakes his head. “You remembered that?”

“I’ve got an eidetic memory when it comes to your weirdness, Steven,” Danny says, and wishes he could stop smiling back.

Instead he turns to the photos that he wishes he’d hidden. They’re ones from Hawai’i. A couple of the kids on beaches or elsewhere in paradise. One of Five-0, taken by Grace one evening at Steve’s place. They’re all out on the beach, the sunset behind them painting the sky with pinks and purples. Smiling, every one of them, arms around each other like always, and Danny is leaning into Steve, the two of them a little closer than any of the others. There’s another one of everyone outside Kamekona’s shrimp truck, the big man himself at the end of the table, Jerry, Chin and Kono on one side, Lou, Steve and Danny on the other. Once again, Steve’s arm is over Danny’s shoulders and Danny is a little too close. 

“You miss us, huh?”

“I already told you I missed you.”

Steve nods, and the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows captures Danny’s attention in a way he wishes it didn’t. 

“It’s not the same without you there, Danny.”

“It wasn’t the same before I left, either.” 

Even though Danny’s still not looking at Steve, he _knows_ that barb hit home.

“I guess not,” Steve says quietly.

The silence is really fucking awkward, the sort of silence that needs filling, and Danny’s half-afraid he’s about to start spouting off about every single thing that he’s missed about Steve - _his smile, his laugh, his humour, his kiss, his taste, his deep, stuttering groans when he comes_ \- when his phone rings. 

_Thank god._

Glancing at the caller ID, he sees it’s Maddie. “Hey. Sorry, we won’t be long.”

“As much as I’m looking forward to meeting Commander McGarrett,” she says, amusement rich in her voice. “That’s not why I’m calling. I wanted to let you know that the crime lab’s found something.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, some interesting financial transactions in Jonny Viano’s bank records – deposits of six figures.”

Danny cocks his head. “That _is_ interesting.”

“Yeah. The money’s come from an offshore account-“

“Of course it has.”

“-and we’re struggling to get a solid ID on it. One of our forensic accountants knows someone who knows someone who might be able to give us a lead.”

“But nothing yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay. Let’s see where that takes us. Anything else?”

Maddie pauses. “Anna just texted me. Says Steve is at your place.”

“Uh, yeah. It was – expedient.”

“Right,” she says, and he can tell that she’s grinning. 

“Anyway. We’ll be in shortly, okay?”

“See you soon, Danny.”

When he hangs up, he sees Steve looking at him, and he recognises that face. Annoyed, pretending not to be. Maybe even a hint of jealousy in there. 

“That your new partner?” Steve asks, his voice too normal. 

“Yeah, Maddie Morris. She’s young, but she’s damn good. Reminds me of Kono when she was a rookie, minus the propensity for violence.”

Steve nods, opens his mouth to say something, then sips his coffee instead. “I-” He starts, then stops again. Danny raises an eyebrow. 

“Not like you to be tongue-tied, Steve.”

He grins then, more than a little wicked. “You want to talk about my tongue, Danny?”

And even though Danny knows he’s doing it shift Danny’s focus from whatever was just going on, even though he _knows_ that, his cheeks still heat up to supernova levels. He coughs and shakes his head. “I really don’t,” he mumbles, turning away to grab one of the muffins.

This is... This is exactly what he should've expected, really. If he couldn't help himself when they were talking on the phone, how exactly did he think he was going to keep himself under control when Steve is here in the flesh, the full McGarrett experience?

He hands Steve the bag with the other muffin in it, and Steve peers into it with consternation.

"It's healthy," Danny tells him, and Steve looks up at him with something like horror.

"It's a muffin, Danny. Sugar, carbs - god knows what else-"

"Okay, before you go any further, that right there was made by my partner's other half, and in case you've forgotten, loyalty is kind of my thing. Second of all, it's from one of the best bakeries in the city - in _this_ city, you know how many good bakeries there are in New York? And third, it's healthy. It's all - I don't know, almond flour and acai berries and stuff." He grabs his phone from his pocket, finds the bakery's website and shows him. "See?"

Steve looks, and his aneurysm face eases a little. "Those are quality ingredients."

"And a shit load better than whatever you ate on the plane, am I right?"

Steve sighs, but obediently bites into his muffin. His eyes widen and he points at it. "This is so good!"

"Don't eat with your mouth full, Steven," Danny tells him, but honestly, it's adorable.

Not helping with Danny’s renewed and inadvisable _interest,_ but adorable. 

“Eat up. When you’re finished we’ll head into the office, you can talk to the captain.”

“Can I drive?” Steve asks, and Danny can only roll his eyes. 

Yeah. Things are definitely back to normal, or what passes for it between the two of them.


	3. Chapter 3

After breakfast, they head outside to the car. Steve heads towards the driver's side again and Danny glares at him.

"What did I tell you? My car. Bad weather. I'm driving."

Opening his mouth as if to argue, Steve closes it and sighs, looking away. "Look, Danny, when I said that time that I get car sick if I'm not in the driver's seat? I wasn't joking."

"I've been in the car _with_ you when you weren't driving, and you were fine, apart from the whole control freak thing. You were fine half an hour ago when we drove here."

"Actually, not so much. But most of that was nerves. I didn't know how you were going to react, and I-" He shrugs and his face closes off again. "Come on, Danny - I promise, I'll take good care of your car."

Looking at him, Danny realises he's serious. How in the hell have they known each other for this long and Danny seriously had no idea? And - wow, he mocked him in that therapy session, and doesn't he feel like an ass now? Sighing, Danny throws him the keys.

"If you get me killed, I'm haunting you."

"I've heard that one before, Danno," Steve says with a smile and gets in.

"And doesn't that say everything about our relationship," Danny mutters. Shaking his head at himself and his soft heart, Danny slides into the passenger seat.

He has to give directions the whole way but Steve behaves himself, sticking to speed limits and avoiding potholes. 

"So," Danny says as they get to midtown. "We talk to Harold, see what he knows, let him talk to his people and see what _they_ know, and hopefully get some answers."

Steve glances at him. "You think he'll talk that easy?"

Danny chews his lip and shrugs. "Honestly? I'm not sure. This guy, he talks when it suits him. But using the NYPD and Five-0 to clear out his wannabe rivals, do his dirty work for him? Yeah, I reckon that’ll appeal."

"I hope so. If he talks, maybe we can end this quickly, with as little bloodshed as possible."

"Always the best way," Danny says, and then gestures. "Next left. Pull up-"

"Near the cop cars, yeah, I figured."

"Smartass," Danny says, and there might just be a little fondness slipping in between his words. He rubs his eyes and tries not to sigh.

They get out and Steve pulls his jacket a little closer around him. It’s just started snowing again and the wind is bitterly cold, finding its way into every nook and cranny.

"Why thank you, Daniel, for lending me your coat," Danny says as they cross the road. "It's very generous of you, I'd be freezing without it."

Steve rolls his eyes but he's smiling, and he claps Danny on the shoulder. The contact shouldn't make Danny light up the way it does.

"Thank you, Daniel, yes, you're very kind and generous, as always, as you like to remind everyone."

"You're welcome, Steven. And correction: I like to remind everyone that you're cheap. That's different."

They head into the precinct, a three-storey building of brick and concrete that couldn't be mistaken for anything but a police house. It’s the same inside - it's the walls, Danny thinks, that institutional grey; or maybe it's the floors covered in slightly-sticky linoleum. Everything's dark and kind of dingy, and smells kind of damp even when it's 110 degrees outside and hasn't rained for weeks. 

Derry, the cop on the front desk, looks at Danny coolly, nodding ever-so-slightly in greeting, and looks suspiciously at Steve. He's one of the cops who distrusts Danny on principle, who still sees him as an outsider. He's also the kind of cop that is viciously pedantic when it comes to keeping what little power he has.

"Detective Williams," he says, and pushes the signing in book towards him. "I'm sure you're aware that we're required to see ID for all visitors, and your friend will need to sign in."

"I'm Commander Steve McGarrett, of the Five-0 task force in Hawai'i," Steve says, taking his badge out of his pocket along with his wallet to show his ID. His voice is sharp, no-nonsense - he sees Derry for what he is and isn't about to take any of his shit. "I'm here to see the captain. I believe she's expecting me."

Steve can be intimidating when he wants to be, and he is right now - looming over the desk, strength obvious in his shoulders, power in his stance. It makes the arrogance in Derry's eyes waver.

"I'll need to call up to confirm that,” he says stiffly, picking up the phone and gesturing at the ancient plastic chairs pushed against the wall. “You can take a seat-"

"I'll stand. It won't take a moment."

Danny tries not to smile when Derry's eye twitches. The captain's assistant confirms Steve's words in seconds - she's a busy woman and she doesn't tolerate time-wasters.

"You'll still need to sign in," Derry says when he hangs up, sounding petulant now. Steve does just that, and takes the ID badge that Derry gives him with a very military nod.

"Danny? Lead the way."

"Sure thing," Danny says, and hides his grin until they get into the elevator. "Thanks for the free entertainment."

"What was his problem?"

"You're Five-0."

"So are you.” Steve pauses, winces. “So _were_ you."

"Yeah, and that's the problem. Half the force think that Five-0 are a bunch of dangerous, rule-breaking maniacs; the others think we're superheroes."

"Oh? And what do _you_ think we are?"

Danny snorts. "Both. As well you know."

"You think I'm a superhero?"

"I think you'd look good in spandex," Danny says, the words just slipping on out there, past all of his walls and all of his filters. It's almost worth it for the smile that Steve gives him. "Don't," Danny says, wagging his finger, and pushes him out of the elevator when the doors ding open. Which means that he has to touch Steve again, which is not ideal, because it makes Danny want to touch him more, to kiss him, to strip off his shirt and see if he has any new scars, and that's not professional and it's not appropriate, and it's not going to happen.

The elevator opens out onto the bullpen, fifteen desks with ancient, glacier-slow computers, a printer than only works when it feels like it, and right now, ten detectives pretending not to be interested in their presence. Word travels fast in a police precinct, and it's no surprise at all that everyone knows who Steve is.

"Check in with Pam at the back, she'll take you into the captain," Danny says, pointing. Steve looks at her, then back at Danny.

"And you'll be here?"

"Yup. That’s my desk, right there." Danny points at his desk at the furthest side of the room, covered in carefully organised piles of paperwork.

Steve draws himself up to his full impressive height and strides across the room. Pam looks up at him, unimpressed, and gets up from her desk with an annoyed click of her tongue to introduce him to the captain.

Danny goes over to his desk; Maddie is already looking at him and grinning.

"He's very cute," she says, leaning forward and propping her chin on her hand. "Tall, too.The height difference thing," she says with a vague gesture. "I like it."

"So not professional," Danny tells her, and she laughs.

"But you're okay? You didn't try to kill him at the airport?"

"We, uh," Danny probably shouldn't tell her about this, but he figures, if he just says it like it's no big deal, she'll move on, right? "We hugged, actually."

She squeals then, actually squeals, but she has the good grace to look embarrassed about it and put her hands over her mouth. Clearing her throat, she's still smiling, like she just can't help herself. "That's _so cute_ , Danny!"

"Can we just - not? Please? I'm supposed to be babysitting him, which means the two of you will be spending time together as well. If you could spend that time doing something other than fangirling over us, I'd appreciate it."

"Is it wrong for me to want you to be happy, Danny?" She asks, and Danny can’t help but smile at how much she means it. It gives him a tiny bit of confidence that yeah, maybe he can be happy. Maybe he’s allowed to be.

Right now, though, they're working, and as the senior partner it's his job to drag them back on track. "You said you had some information about Viano's financials?"

“Yes!" She grabs a thick file from her desk and passes it over. "Like I said - six figures. Offshore bank accounts. All pretty suspect, right?"

"Right," Danny says, flicking through the financials. Months - years - of being in the red, overdraft fees and bounced payment charges all over the place, and then bam - a sweet $250k. "But without a name, we've not got much."

"True. But it's giving us another piece of the puzzle - it's like you were saying, you get the pieces of the puzzle and you start making your story, right?"

"Okay," Danny says, closing the folder. "So what's the story so far?"

She sits back, interlacing her fingers and looking up at the ceiling. "We've got what we thought was a low level drug dealer murdered in what looks like a hit. We figured it was due to the drugs somehow - and it might still be, we can't write that off. But then searching his apartment gave us a crap load of weapons - big ones, nasty ones, _expensive_ ones. He's moved on from selling drugs to selling guns? And the money is - um, an advance or something?"

"They're expensive guns but they're not _that_ expensive. I'm sure the money is related but I'm not sure how yet. Money laundering, something to do with drugs - hell, it could be trafficking for all we know. We need to get more details about Viano's life-"

Which is when his name is roared across the office. He looks over to see Captain Murphy in the door of her office, looking agitated in a been-exposed-to-McGarrett kind of way. "In here. Now!"

Sighing, Danny stands and gives Maddie - who's looking at him wide-eyed and confused - a smile. "This is what happens around Steve, you'll get used to it," he says, and goes over to the captain's office. Steve is standing in front of the desk, back ramrod straight and face blank.

"Your Commander here has just made some _requests,"_ Murphy says as she stalks back around to her chair and sits in it heavily, gripping the arms tightly. "I thought I made it clear to you that he was here to question Yale, and nothing more."

"Which is what I told him.”

"Really? Because he's come in here demanding a gun-"

"With all due respect, Ma'am, I _asked_ for a gun,” Steve says. “ And this has nothing to do with Danny-"

"Oh, I think it does," she says, and glares at Danny, as if any of this is his fault. "I wonder where your allegiances lie, Williams."

"My allegiances lie with justice, and putting these drug running scumbags out of business," Danny says, managing with a great deal of effort to sound calm while his irritation levels are rocketing to the sun. "This isn't a Five-0 versus NYPD thing, Captain. This is just about the law, and stopping the 718s before they get a stranglehold in another state."

"It better be.” She gives Danny one last glare before transferring her ire to Steve. “I don't like this. I don't like your power trip, Commander - you're not in charge here. You're a visitor, a guest, and I will expect your full cooperation."

"Yes Ma'am."

"And your request for a weapon is denied. You are here to conduct one interview, and I expect you to leave once you've done so."

"That'll depend on the outcome of the interview," Steve says, his voice still cool, emotionless - what Danny thinks of as his SEAL voice.

"That's true," Danny says before she can start yelling again. "If Yale gives him some leads here in New York, he can't just ignore that. He has to investigate."

"He is not FBI, Williams - he doesn't have jurisdiction over state lines. I’ll allow this as a favour to you," she says, her words coming quickly and her eyes bright, as though the idea has just come to her. And it probably has, because she's not the type of person to do favours to her inferiors and especially not to Danny. But that mention of the FBI tells Danny exactly why she's letting Steve do anything at all. She doesn't want the Feds or the DEA involved, taking over everything and wrenching control - and glory - from her hands. If that means throwing a bone to Steve and Five-0, so be it; they're the lesser of two evils.

"Thank you, Captain," Danny says, and he thinks he manages to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Go over to Rikers when you're ready. Report back when you're done. And don't forget that you have an active case, Detective."

“Of course not, Captain,” Danny says, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from giving her a lazy and sarcastic salute. Instead he nods and holds the door open for Steve, who looks like he’s going to argue for a gun a little longer. But after a handful of heartbeats he turns on his heel and stalks past Danny, out into the bullpen. 

Once the door is shut behind him, Danny catches Steve’s elbow. “Hey. Calm down. That went okay, right? She’s letting you investigate.”

“Yeah, without a badge or a gun. Where does that leave me?”

Danny shrugs and leads the way to his desk. “Special consultant? I stay with you at all times so that anything we see, anything we need to do, is all above board. Okay?”

Steve’s lips thin, but he nods. “Sure. Fine.”

“Good, great, we’re in agreement,” Danny says and sighs. They’re at his desk now where Maddie isn’t even pretending to be working. Time for introductions, like Maddie doesn't already know way too much about him. “Steve McGarrett, this is my partner, Maddie Morris.”

“Pleased to finally meet you, Steve,” Maddie says, standing and shaking Steve’s hand. “I’ve heard _so_ much about you.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, looks between the two of them. “Good, I hope?”

“Occasionally.”

With a snort, Danny pats Steve’s shoulder. “I told her as much good stuff as you deserve.”

“Lots, then,” Steve says, and Danny rolls his eyes. He also catches Maddie grinning wide enough that her head is surely about to topple off. 

“Look, how about we get over to Rikers? The sooner we’re there, the sooner we can come back and decide on our next step.”

“Sounds good,” Steve says, and reaches a hand into his pocket for the car keys. 

Danny shakes his head and reaches out a hand, making a little grabby motion. “Keys. You’re not driving.”

“Come on, Danno. You let me drive this morning.”

“Against my better judgement,” Danny says. “It just reminded me of how much I like driving my own car. But here - I’ve got something for you.” He reaches into a drawer in his desk and pulls something out, then throws it at Steve. He catches it instinctively then looks at what’s in his hand. 

“You’re giving me a bracelet?”

“It’s one of those travel sickness things - accupressure or something, I don’t know. It sounds like nonsense to me but it works for Charlie, I figure it’d work for you too.”

Steve grins at him, if anything looking _more_ delighted that it’s something to do with travel sickness. “So you finally believe me?”

With his most withering look Danny says, “I believe you’d throw up in my car to prove a point.”

Steve’s grin just gets wider, and he puts on the bracelet. “I’m gonna get back behind the wheel before I leave, just you watch.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming, Super-SEAL.” Glancing at Maddie, who is biting her lip and doing a terrible job of pretending she’s concentrating on whatever’s on her monitor rather than listening to them, Danny says, “Maddie, can you hold down the fort ‘til we get back? Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Sure thing, Danny. Enjoy.”

“Uh-huh,” Danny says, not at all feeling confident as to how this is going to go.


	4. Chapter 4

When they arrive at Rikers, Steve is all business. He casts sharp looks around them - the building, the security, the guards. Danny gets it; at least in Halawa, Steve knows the place and the people. This is an unknown, and the unknown always sets Steve on edge. That's not to say he wouldn't happily storm it with nothing more than a flare gun and a butter knife, but still.

Danny knows Rikers pretty well, both from his years in Newark and now. The bad reputation is thoroughly earned and he hates the place. It sets his teeth on edge, knowing some of the shit that goes down here and being unable to do anything about it. He always keeps a weather eye out for any misdeeds, but the guards know better than to act up under the watchful eye of a cop. For now, he concentrates on the task at hand.

The guard leads them to the interrogation room, where Harold Yale awaits them patiently. He's sitting at the table already with his hands folded in front of him. The thing about Harold is that his gang boss confidence has never failed him, never left him. He sits there wearing his orange jumpsuit like it's a tailored three piece suit, like he's waiting to talk to Danny in some Italian restaurant uptown, with the ball in his court. And the thing is - the thing that irks Danny - it kind of is. Harold is the one with all the power in this relationship; the only time he ever shares information is when it suits him. The DA has made it very clear that there are no deals to be cut, no time to shave off his sentence, and Danny is perfectly happy with that. He has no desire for a scumbag like this to be out on the streets in the city where his kids live. But it makes things more difficult when it comes to getting answers.

"Detective Williams," Harold says with a warm smile, and looks curiously at Steve. "Will you introduce me to your friend?"

"This is Commander McGarrett of the Five-0 Task Force in Hawai'i," Danny says, sitting opposite Harold like they really are at that Italian restaurant. "He's come a long way to see you."

"Honoured, I'm sure," Harold says, watching Steve, who's still on his feet, arms folded and watching Harold right back. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We were wondering how talkative you're feeling," Danny says before Steve can speak. Harold's gaze snaps back to Danny, cool interest in his eyes. "The 718s are trying to expand, making a mess of O'ahu in the process. You got anything to say about that?"

There's a spark of something in Harold's eyes, but it's gone before Danny can identify it. There's a reason he never got caught for anything drug or gang related; the guy is _good_.

"I'm sure I don't know anything about that," Harold says. "But from what I know about the 718 Crew - from the stories I've heard - it sounds like a bad business decision."

"Doesn't it just?" Danny says, keeping his tone just as friendly and conversational, gesturing with his hands as he talks. "When you got Mexican cartels as your partners, what’re you doing fishing out there? Hawai'i's just a stepping stone to the Asian markets, and well, that's going to get their attention, right? Hawai'i itself isn't a big enough market to bother with, why go all that way and make such a fuss if you don't have bigger plans? So they're going to get suspicious is what I'm thinking. And nobody wants a cartel mad at them, am I right?"

"You are right," Harold says, jaw ever so slightly tight. "And I assume you were using the royal 'we' there."

"Sure. Of course. I figure, you're a businessman with connections, right, maybe you can find out a little something."

Harold looks at him in silence a moment longer, the friendliness in his smile strained now. "And what is it that you want to know?"

"I want these people off my islands," Steve says, coming forward and leaning on the table, looming over Harold. An intimidation tactic, one Danny is sure won't work. One Steve probably knows won't work, too, but hey, Good Cop/Bad Cop is an oldie but a goodie. "I don't care how you get it, I don't want to know your sources. I just want to know who's behind all of this."

Harold gives a thoughtful little noise and gazes at the small barred window. Through it, they can see grey winter daylight, but Danny focuses his attention on Harold. The man is a genius, his mind working a thousand miles an hour. He knows who's who, probably already has suspects, is deciding whether to let the cops take care of it or deal with it in-house. There's a risk - Danny knew it from the beginning, knows it every time he comes here - that the culprits might as easily end up dead as in handcuffs.

"I could do some digging, ask some questions," Harold says eventually, the strain melting away from his smile. "And if I do - the usual arrangement? Valentine's Day is coming up, Detective - I'd enjoy some conjugal time with the wife."

"Deal," Danny says, and Harold gives him an oily grin.

"My people will contact your people," Harold says with a wave of his hand. "You know how it goes."

Danny nods, and then stands. He leads Steve back out to the car, then looks over at him. 

“Sounds to me like Harold’s going to give us what we want.” 

Steve gives him a long look. "You trust him?"

"Trust is a strong word," Danny says, shrugs. "I trust that it's in his interests to give us the name of the guy who's fucking his enterprise over."

Steve nods and then taps the steering wheel with a finger. "I don't like that our whole case rests on that guy."

 _"Our_ case, Steven?"

"My case," he says, quietly, and frowns out of his window. “I-“ He starts, but then falls silent.

Danny looks at him, not sure if he wants to push, wants to know. He has a hell of a lot he wants to say to Steve but he doesn’t know where to start and he definitely doesn’t know where it will end. Since he’s going to be babysitting Steve for the next few days at least, maybe it’s better off to just let it all lie for now, like a sleeping monster that surely won’t bite them in the ass when it wakes. In lieu of a better option, Danny starts the car and heads out. 

Steve doesn't say anything else. His jaw is tight, his hands are curled into fists where they rest on his thighs. The longer he doesn’t say anything, the more Danny wants to know what he was going to say. He manages to resist as they leave Rikers, but as soon as they're on the bridge, he says,

"You, what?"

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it again, and the frustration of dealing with Steve and his communication difficulties comes flooding back.

"Steve-"

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Danny blinks and looks over at him, taken aback. "For?"

"Jesus - for _everything_. For not - for being so - for everything, okay?"

"No, it's not okay. If you're apologising, I need to know what for, so that I know whether to accept said apology."

Steve glares at him, and Danny glares right back until he has to break it off to look at the road. 

"This really isn't the time," Steve says, and Danny gives him another glare.

"Hey, you started it."

"Fine - right now, right now I apologise for not contacting you. For leaving it so long."

"I wouldn't have answered."

"Maybe not. But I should still have tried."

Yeah, you should've, Danny thinks, but instead he _hmphs_. "It's a start."

"We'll talk about it later, okay Danny? I promise."

"Uh-huh."

There’s a few beats of silence, and Danny is sure that Steve can feel the strain as strongly as he can, wonders what he thinks about it. Wonders if it ties him up in knots the way it does Danny. He wants to yell, to make sure Steve knows that isn’t even nearly enough. But he knows if he starts, he’s not going to be stopping any time soon, so he stays quiet. It feels odd to be in the car with Steve in silence, almost odd enough to make Danny start ranting about something, anything, but he manages, somehow, to hold his tongue.

"You think Harold will come through?" Steve asks eventually, and Danny enjoys the minor victory of having Steve crack first.

Danny gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Well, we'll find out soon enough. He’s usually pretty quick at getting back to me. For now, how about you join me and Maddie looking through some paperwork? I helped you with your case, it’s only fair you help me with mine.”

“And you _know_ how much I love paperwork,” Steve says with a lazy, crooked grin that makes Danny swallow and turn his attention back to the road with a laser focus – anything to not think about what that smile does to him.

===

When they get back to the precinct, Steve goes to brief Captain Murphy and then steps into one of the meeting rooms to call Five-0 with an update. 

While he’s busy, Maddie asks Danny how it went.

“Okay; Harold said he’d get back to us, so until he does we just have to wait.”

“I meant with Steve,” she says. “It must be strange to be working with him again.”

Danny gives a strangled laugh and then nods. “Yeah. I guess you could say that. It’s – there’s still so much I want to say to him, you know? So much that we never talked about. But right now it’s just easier not to.”

“But you will, right? Before he goes?”

“I – yeah. I guess.” Danny wonders if it might be better to just leave it, not discuss it at all. Steve goes home, Danny can forget all about him again. Apart from that he never forgot him in the first place. He sighs. 

“It’ll be better if you do,” Maddie says, giving him a smile reaching over to pay his hand.

Steve comes back and pulls up one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs that are usually used while booking suspects over to Danny’s desk. He looks at the piles of paperwork with distaste, and Danny grins at him, shoving the biggest towards him. They might need to talk at some point, but he’s happy to be kind of an asshole in the meantime. 

They go out to the deli on the corner for a late lunch, Steve regaling Maddie with some of Five-0’s greatest hits, including some more recent ones that Danny hasn’t heard about. She listens, wide-eyed, and asks questions about everything, making sure she's got all the facts like the good cop she is. She asks, a little too innocently, how Steve liked working with Danny, and Danny glares at her. But when Steve immediately says that having Danny as a partner was the best thing that ever happened to him, well. He can't be too mad at her. 

After lunch, they return to the precinct and dive straight back into research. After an hour or so, Steve yawns. It's subtle and hastily hidden behind a hand, but they were partners for six years and Danny isn't so easily fooled.

"We're pretty much done for the day," Danny says. "You don't need to stick around."

"I'm fine," Steve says immediately, not that Danny had been expecting anything else.

"Sure you are. How many hours have you been awake now?"

"I was trained to be fully functional for much longer than this, Danny. I'm fine." He picks up the next report and starts scanning it.

Danny snorts and looks over at Maddie, who's biting down on her lip to try to stop from grinning. "He's just as much of a menace as I always said, huh?" Danny asks, shaking his head, and Maddie's grin breaks free.

"He is a lot like you said, sure," she glances over at Steve who's smirking at them.

Nudging Danny with an elbow, Steve says, "You talk about me a lot?"

"I _complain_ about you a lot, it's different."

"Same as always," Steve says, not insulted in the slightest. "It's one of the ways you show affection."

"No, it's one of the ways I show _annoyance,_ Steve, there's a very big difference."

"Whatever you say, Danno," Steve says, and smirks through another glare from Danny.

"A _lot_ like you said," Maddie confirms, and Danny sighs, turning his attention back to the very boring reports, and can't help but think that if this was Five-0, Chin would have scanned them in and done some some of optical character recognition thing, combined it with complicated algorithm magic and gotten them the answers in minutes.

As it is they're at it for another hour before Danny reaches his limit and puts the papers down with finality.

"That's it, I am so done." It's just past four, and while he normally stays late, today is a long way from a normal day.

"Sounds good to me," Maddie agrees, rubbing her eyes.

"Well, if you're both done I guess I am too." Steve puts his papers down with every impression of reluctance.

"Do you mind if I run?" Maddie asks, grabbing her bag from her desk drawer. "If I hurry I'll beat Anna home and surprise her with dinner."

"Go ahead," Danny says, waving a hand. "Vamoose."

"Thanks," she says, standing. "It was good to meet you, Steve."

"You too."

She trots off; both she and Anna work long days, but Maddie almost always finishes later. It's rare that she gets home first and so Anna does most of the cooking. It's something that Maddie feels guilty about, so Danny gets her need to run.

When he reaches over to gather all the papers together, he sees Steve contemplating him.

"What? What is with that face?"

"I thought you could read all my faces, Danny."

"Yeah, well, I'm out of practice. Use your words, Steve."

Something unreadable passes over Steve's face, something that Danny doesn't quite recognise but he sees a shadow of hurt. "Let's go get a drink," he says instead of whatever's on his mind and yeah, okay, Danny is very up for that.

"Sounds good. There's a nice place near my apartment. It sells Kona so you won't even feel too homesick."

Steve looks at him. "You go there when you miss Hawai'i?"

Danny looks away from Steve's gaze and shrugs. "Maybe. Sometimes," he adds, quietly, then stands. "Come on. Beers are on you."

"I don't recall agreeing to that," Steve says, but he's smiling and following Danny.

Steve talks about Hawaii on the drive back to Brooklyn. Updates about Five-0, about their friends. About surfing and sun. He talks about Nahele, who is with a good foster family, but Steve is keeping an eye on him still. He's doing well, he's doing good, and Danny is glad. He didn't see Nahele so much, things were complicated between him and Steve at that point, but he knows the kid's had a shitty life and he deserves someone like Steve watching his back.

As he listens, Danny can't help but think that life has gone on without him there, and it makes him sad.

"We all miss you, Danny," Steve says, in the dark, quiet car, as though he read Danny's thoughts. "Not a day goes by that I wish you hadn't left."

"I didn't have a choice."

Steve doesn't speak, but his silence says a lot. It says that Danny did everything he could to keep Grace in Hawai'i when Rachel threatened to take her to Vegas. It says that Rachel's lies about Charlie would probably have been valuable leverage over her. It says that Danny should have fought to stay.

Or maybe that's all Danny and nothing Steve's implying at all.

They pull up outside Danny's building and walk the few blocks to the bar. It's kind of a dive - an actual dive, not fake and ironic like a lot of places around here. It has a jukebox with a lot of eighties rock on it; the clientele is older, and wears a lot less plaid than the typical Fort Greene crowd. Danny pulls off his tie before they go in, and the unsubtle attention Steve pays to his bare neck makes Danny's throat dry.

Both of them get a Longboard for old time's sake, and sit at a wobbly table near the bare brick wall at the back. Steve frowns and folds a beer mat, putting it under a leg of the table to stabilise it and Danny hides his smile by taking a long drink of beer.

"Maybe we should get pizza after this," Steve says. "You can show me what you've been talking about all these years."

"Maybe I will, and maybe you'll end up mourning the loss of good pies in your life when you get home. Serve you right."

Steve grins and Danny swallows. Jesus, what is wrong with him? Well - he knows exactly what's wrong with him, and it's sitting opposite him at the table, it's Steve McGarrett and his devastatingly attractive face.

"Good, then, we'll get pizza. Can I have pineapple on it?"

Danny throws a beer mat at him.

One drink turns to three, and the tension between them is melted away by the alcohol. They touch each other a lot, arms and shoulders. It feels right, very right, and Danny's forgotten all the reasons he's mad at Steve. No, that's not true - Danny and his negative-wired brain doesn't forget shit like that, but it doesn't seem so important any more. It seems like maybe they should have talked months ago instead of letting this drag on. But after three drinks Danny is relaxed and happy; that conversation has waited nine months, it can wait a little longer.

Steve, shockingly, not only pays the bill but picks up the tab at the takeout pizza joint too. They get a whole pie - Danny figures they can put the rest in the fridge and have it later.

It's only when they get back to Danny's and Steve sees his duffel bag next to the sofa that he says, "Shit, I still need to find a hotel."

Danny looks down at the pizza in his hands, then at how exhausted Steve looks, and whatever part of him might have pointed out all the ways this is a bad idea, reminded him of all the ways Steve hurt him, is unusually quiet.

"Just stay here," Danny says. "I've got a camp bed that I set up in Charlie's room when I've got visitors."

Steve looks at him. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Danny says with a shrug and more confidence than he feels. "What's the point in you paying for a hotel when I have space for you?"

"I - Thanks, Danny," Steve says and squeezes Danny's shoulder. He takes a step forward and then he's in Danny's personal space, a little too close. Danny's eyes automatically drop to Steve's lips and he wants to kiss him, he wants to kiss him _so much_ that it's an ache in his chest.

It takes a few beats for him to say, "Here, take this, I'll get us some water," thrusting the pizza in Steve's hands and scurrying off to the kitchen to take some deep breaths and get control of himself.

They watch _Law and Order_ as they eat - Steve's choice, Danny thinks it might be his idea of a joke. Between them they demolish two thirds of the pizza - Steve admitting, reluctantly, that it's good, though insisting that pineapple would improve it. He then helps Danny set up the camp bed and grins at Charlie's choice in decor, heavy on sharks and nautical themes.

"Your son has good taste," he says, running his fingers over a vinyl decal of a cartoon sailboat.

"Yeah, well, don't go trying to convince him to join the Navy or something, okay? Or we will be having words."

Steve laughs and then turns, he's a little too close to Danny and his hand brushes Danny's thigh and god, seriously, he can't handle this. Danny steps away to fuss with the pillows on the camp bed, and then clears his throat.

"I usually leave for work around seven thirty. Even with jet lag I assume you'll be up before that. If you want to go for a run or whatever, knock yourself out, my spare key is on top of the fridge. Just remember it's cold and icy out there, okay? I don't need to add New York to the alarming number of places I've visited you in hospital."

"Okay, Danno," Steve says, and Danny hates it when he calls him that, apart from that he doesn't and he knows it. Those months when Steve _stopped_ calling him Danno hurt too damned much.

"So I, uh- Help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen, wifi password is on the fridge, I'm sure you've got your tablet with you or maybe some high tech toy from Chin, and-" This is impressive rambling, even for Danny, and he stops himself, licks his lips. "Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Anything else just - let me know."

"I will. Thanks, Danny. I mean it. You didn't have to do this."

"Yeah, well."

Steve smirks then; Danny's not entirely sure why. "Sweet dreams, Danny."

"You too," Danny says, and all but races to his own room.


	5. Chapter 5

Danny is grumpy the next morning.

Not that this is new - he's never been a morning person. But it took him forever to get to sleep, his mind racing in circles about Steve - what to do about him, how he feels about him, how great he looks and how fucking _good_ it is to see him again. Even trying to force himself to remember how much it hurt to see him at Cath's side doesn't help much because that's a memory and Steve is _here_ , and Danny - well, Danny is fucked. He's pretty sure he dreamed about him too, though he doesn't remember for sure, and that might be for the best.

In any case, he woke early feeling less than refreshed, and the shower didn't do much to help. So now Danny is sitting at his dining table looking down at his large mug of coffee and bowl of slightly congealed oatmeal that he's not made much of a dint in, thinking about Steve, again.

Or rather, not Steve exactly. More about his own life, and the things he wishes were in it. One of which is Steve.

It's just - he loves New York, he loves being close to his family again. He loves the seasons here, he enjoys the cases he's working on and he likes having Maddie as a partner. He has friends both old and new that he meets up with every now and again, work permitting, and of course he has his kids.

But he doesn't have his 'ohana. He doesn't have Five-0 and the adrenaline rush of their cases, nor the satisfaction of solving them. He doesn't have his other friends, he doesn't get to see Billy Hanamoa grow up other than in photos that Amy emails to him now and again. He's barely been surfing here - it's nowhere near the same. He doesn't have his refuge up at the lookout point, and he misses the way it always seemed to make his problems shrink to, if not nothing, then at least something smaller and maybe manageable.

And he doesn't have Steve.

"God damn it," Danny grumbles, scrubbing his face. Circular thinking is a bad habit at the best of times, but when it comes to things he absolutely cannot change - cannot have - it's a thousand times worse.

It's worse yet when Steve steps out of Charlie's room in a pair of black PJ bottoms and an old Naval Intelligence t-shirt, rubbing his arms against the cool morning. He's stubbly and sleepy and looks ridiculously good, especially when he steps closer and gives Danny a tired smile.

"Morning, Danny."

"Morning. There's coffee in the pot. Half and half in the fridge of you want it."

Steve makes a pleased noise and goes over to it, pouring a mug and breathing in. "I should've brought you a bag of Kona," he says as he adds a dash of the half and half.

"Yeah, you should've."

"I'll post you some when I get home."

Danny glares at his oatmeal, as if it's responsible for the sad little swoop of his heart at the thought of Steve going home.

"You got any more of that?" Steve asks, nodding at the bowl.

"Take it," Danny says, pushing it towards him. "I'm not hungry. It's the microwave stuff though, full of sugar."

Steve pauses for a moment but then shrugs and sits, using Danny's spoon to shovel it into his mouth.

"I googled it, there's a boxing gym around the corner," he says between mouthfuls. "I'll go there later if we have time, get a workout."

"Yeah, I go there," Danny says, and bristles at Steve's surprised look. "What, do I not look like I work out to you?"

"You definitely look like you work out," Steve says, leering ever so slightly, and Danny freezes, not sure how to react. He coughs and takes a sip of coffee, and guilt flashes over Steve's face. "I mean - um. There's not really any way I can take that back and not look like an asshole, is there?"

"There is not."

Steve finishes the oatmeal and pushes the bowl away. He looks at Danny for a moment, and then shrugs. "You look good, man. Take it how you will."

"Take it how I will? As if it's that simple, Steve." The instant the words leave his mouth, Danny regrets it. He's expecting Steve to snap back at him, to get pissed off, but instead he only looks at him, considering.

"I'm glad you don't think it's simple, Danny, because neither do I."

And then he gets up and heads to the bathroom, leaving Danny with thoughts flapping like chaotic butterflies, and a bowl that's a pain in the ass to clean up.

Danny puts it in the sink along with his mug to deal with later, then goes to his bedroom to finish getting ready, making a promise not to dwell on what Steve said - a promise he's broken before he's even chosen a tie.

Is Steve thinking the same sorts of things Danny is? Is he still attracted to Danny, does he still want him? Is it just a sexual thing - was it always just a sexual thing? He knows from Chin and Kono and Lou that Steve and Catherine are long over, that she came to her senses - went back to the Navy and called an end to the endless on-again-off-again of their relationship. But what Steve thinks of him - what Steve ever thought of him - Danny doesn't have a clue. Sure, they were partners and best friends, he knows those things were mutual. But sleeping together muddied the waters, or at least it did for him. Or - well, the waters were pretty muddy beforehand, but after, they were seriously stirred up.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Danny grabs a plain blue tie and puts it on, grabbing the jacket that matches his trousers. By the time he's back in the living room Steve is waiting, leaning against the back of the sofa and checking his phone. He's dressed in cargoes and a shirt that matches his eyes - that matches Danny's tie, now that he thinks about it. Danny touches it, slightly self-conscious, and approaches.

"You ready to head off?" It's almost half an hour earlier than he'd normally leave but at least being at the office means he won't be alone with nothing but Steve and his endless cycle of thoughts.

Steve glances up from his phone. "Sure."

He doesn't even ask to drive, which probably means something, but Danny's not sure what.

He spends most of the journey worrying, the itch of anxiety taking over his brain. He drives on automatic, taking the turns purely on muscle memory. One good thing about being early is that the roads are quieter, and they arrive in record time.

"Is there anywhere to get good coffee around here?" Steve asks. "No offence, but the stuff in your precinct is garbage."

"Tell me about it. There's a place a few blocks away."

As they walk, Steve asks him about the area his precinct covers, as though he's not already done some pretty thorough research. Danny indulges him; tells him about the Museum of Natural History and some of the stuff that's gone down there - decades old stories handed down cop to cop about grisly murders and a monstrous Museum Beast, the kind of thing Jerry would love but this actually happened. Residentially there's a mixture of the very grand - some might say ostentatious - like the Dakota, to the bustling immigrant communities areas further north. Riverside Park and the docks take up one side; the outskirts of Central Park the other.

"There lot of crime?" Steve asks.

"Not really, not like there used to be. New York still has the reputation it got in the eighties, the nineties, back in the bad old days. These days it's mostly burglaries, thank god."

"Oh? You better watch saying stuff like that - things get too idyllic and you're out of a job."

"Sure, but I'd know Grace and Charlie were safe. That's worth anything, even if I have to get a job bagging groceries at Whole Foods."

Steve snorts and grins at him. "You, working in a grocery store. Yeah, I can totally see that."

"I'm not sure what you're trying to say, Steve, but somehow I'm insulted anyway."

They arrive at the coffee cart. It's an institution, been around longer than Danny's been alive. The guy who owns it, Morty, is full of stories, some of which might even be true. He looks like a kindly grandpa with his grey curls and crinkly blue eyes, and Danny is vaguely related to him on his Nana Caan's side. When he sees Danny approach he greets him loudly before chiding him about not coming to see him more often and refuses to take any money for the coffees.

"Your Nana would haunt me if I tried," he laughs breathily.

"She's still alive, Morty."

"And you think that'll stop her?" He cackles, and pushes a bag of knishes into his hands as well. "You be safe, Daniel, okay?"

"You too, man."

He and Steve slowly walk back to the precinct. Danny offers Steve a knish, telling him to live a little.

"It's healthier than a malasada."

"That's not saying much. What is it?"

"A knish - kinda like an empanada. It's got potato and onion in it. 'S nice."

Steve gives it a dubious look, but gives it a bite. He tries to hide his reaction but Danny knows him too well, and beams at him.

"Good stuff, right?"

"It's not bad," Steve allows, which means it's one of the most delicious things he's eaten in months, and finishes it in a couple more bites. Danny leads him down Central Park West, a bit out of the way but it's worth it for the view. They pause on the corner, looking out at the park and the tall buildings of 5th Avenue on the far side. It's still early but this is the city that never sleeps, and there are still people of every kind rushing around - gawking tourists with backpacks and selfie sticks; business types already barking down their cell phones; ordinary everyday New Yorkers sleepwalking to work. Honolulu is busy but it isn't like this, it never had a racing twenty-four hour pulse the way New York does. The laid back nature of Honolulu's inhabitants and _island time, brah!_ means that the two cities have very different souls.

"So is it everything you hoped it would be?" Steve asks, gazing out at the Park. "Being back?"

Danny shrugs. "I'm not exactly back where I was - working in New York is almost as different from Newark as it is from Honolulu."

"Yeah, but - being back on the mainland. With your weather, your concrete, the tall buildings blocking out the sky." Unless it's Danny's imagination, Steve sounds a little bitter. "This is what you wanted, right?"

"It's what I thought I wanted. Years ago," Danny says, quietly. "Did you not notice I stopped talking about Jersey? That I even started saying nice things about Hawai'i?"

"On rare occasions, when you weren't bitching about it."

Danny's jaw tightens; he can feel an argument brewing like angry red sparks bouncing between them. An actual argument, not their usual bickering. An argument that won't be about any of the things they're saying, because they can't bring themselves to say the things they actually mean.

"I miss Hawai'i," Danny says, instead of giving in to the impulse to yell, to get mad and maybe hurt Steve in an attempt to avoid being hurt himself. "I talk about it all the time - ask Maddie. I bitch about it more than I ever did Jersey, but I miss it just as much."

"Danny-"

"I miss the people. I miss Five-0. I miss _you_. Maybe we fucked up a good thing there towards the end, but I still miss you."

Steve regards him, then looks away again, sipping at his coffee and squinting at the skyline across the park. "You think we fucked things up?"

"I think we could have handled it better," Danny says, which is the most tactful way he can think of saying _hell yeah we did_. Because it could have been so good between them, so fucking good, but they were both idiots that refused to talk about things, who were _glorious_ in bed together and said so much with just a look, but never bothered with the words to back it up. So Danny was never _sure_ the way he wanted to be, and then Cath came back and Steve chose her, and Danny figured that he'd been reading Steve wrong all this time.

"Yeah, I guess we could've," Steve says, and sighs, his breath white in the cold air. "I'm not good at talking, Danny."

"Believe me, babe, I know. But stuff like that - all the things we didn't say - maybe if we'd said them... I dunno. Things would've been different."

"Rachel would still have brought your kids to New York."

"I would've fought her."

Steve looks at him, wide eyed and startlingly vulnerable. It's a look Danny's only seen a handful of times, when someone he trusted hurt him. He hates that he put that look there, but it's the truth. If Steve hadn't chosen Cath over him, if it wouldn't have hurt so damn much to stay and see the two of them together, he would've fought Rachel. But the moment she served him the custody papers was exactly when he was at his lowest, so he just... Let it happen.

"Huh," Steve says, which still isn't talking, but now he's looking thoughtful rather than hurt.

"Come on. It's way too early for all this emotional BS," Danny says, pulling the last knish out of the bag and tucking into it.

"Sounds good to me," Steve says, and he’s visibly relieved.

By the time they get back to the precinct, the air feels a little lighter between them. Not cleared - all they've done is dance around the issue, but the dance has still done them good. Danny feels like they're in the same book if not necessarily on the same page.

Maddie is at her desk when they get to the bullpen and she grins at them when they greet her. Danny ignores the question in her eyes, on purpose at first and then because he sees a heavy white envelope made from good paper on his desk. His name is scrawled almost illegibly across the front, and the return address is printed in crisp black letters indented in the paper. When he picks it up and reads that address, he quirks an eyebrow. 

“We’ve got something from Harold, via his lawyer,” Danny says, sliding a finger under the envelope flap and tearing it open messily. 

“You’ve got a letter opener right there on your desk, Danny,” Steve says, sounding both exasperated and fond, and Danny ignores him, even as that fondness settles over him, warm and soft. He skims over the letter – Harold has asked his business associates and thinks that Michael Dubois from Pollit Construction might have something that will help them with their case. After reading through it again, he hands it over to Steve. 

“Dubois is a lieutenant for the 718s,” Danny explains after he’s read it and handed it back, the paper crisply refolded. “Not that anyone could ever prove it, of course. Pollit is believed to be a front – for money laundering, for getting stuff into the country or getting it out. It’s also a legit biz, you know –that’s the best hiding place for shady shit.”

“You think he’s the one responsible for the expansion?”

“Nah, Harold’s never that straightforward and Dubois has always been puppy dog loyal to him. I think Harold’s told him to put us on the right path.”

Steve straightens, getting a glint in his eye that Danny knows too well, that makes him reflexively nervous. “So what are we waiting for?”

Danny snorts and shakes his head. “You see this?” He asks Maddie vaguely. “Like I don’t have a case of my own to deal with?”

Steve deflates a little, and maybe Maddie feels a little sorry for him, because she says, “I was going to go over to forensic accounting in half an hour, they said they had something for me about Viano’s money. Why don’t you two go over to speak to Dubois now, and we’ll reconvene later?”

Steve beams at her, then turns that smile onto Danny, and he is defenceless against that smile, he always has been, and whatever minor protection he managed to erect is far too rusty to be any use now. “Fine. Fine! You, go update Captain Murphy,” he says, wagging his finger at Steve when he frowns and opens his mouth to argue. “Nope! Don’t want to hear it. Update her or we’re not going anywhere.”

With thinned lips and a roll of his eyes, Steve does what he’s told and Danny turns to Maddie, wagging his finger at her, too. “No enabling him! He’s bad enough without any help.”

“I just want to help him with his case! He’s come all the way from Hawai’i after all.” She sits back in her chair and taps an internal envelope on her desk, her face growing sober. “But seriously, Danny. It’s Renato that wants to speak to me. You don’t want to be there.”

Danny frowns at her. She’s not wrong – he hates Renato, head of forensic accounting. He knows about Matty’s case from a friend of a friend and likes to drop hints about it. It tears Danny’s heart out every time, and enrages him too – how fucking dare he, seriously? He should complain, he knows he should, but that’ll mean dragging everything up again, and he can’t deal with that. He just can’t. 

“Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, Maddie. I know you don’t exactly like him either.”

“He’s a creep, but I can handle him,” she says, shrugging. “More importantly – what did you two get up to last night?”

It’s changing the subject to take his mind off Renato _and_ trying to get gossip from him, all in one deft manoeuvre. Quite frankly, Danny’s impressed, and he’s grinning as he shakes his head. 

“You’re not subtle, Morris, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Sometimes a sledgehammer is the appropriate tool, Danny. Now come on. Spill.”

“We went for drinks, okay? And pizza. We talked.”

“And?”

“And nothing. That’s it.”

She clicks her tongue, sounding unimpressed, but before she can badger him for anything else Steve is back from Murphy’s office. His eyebrows are slightly pinched, but as these things go that’s not so very much – Danny figures that the report didn’t go badly. 

“We good to go?” He asks, and Steve nods. 

“She says _tread lightly.”_ Which would explain the expression – Danny tries not to grin too much. 

“Which comes naturally to you, right? So come on, let’s go.”

Steve nods, and leads the way to Danny’s car. He goes – instinctively, probably – to the driver’s side, and then gives Danny a look. Danny's not sure whether he's about to apologise or beg for the keys, but before he can open his mouth, Danny tosses them over and it’s worth it for the smile Steve gives him. 

And honestly, when he climbs into the passenger seat with Steve at his side, seeing him there with his hands on the wheel and a smirk on his face feels _right_. 

Danny doesn't know whether to sigh or smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got back from Florida last Saturday, started a new job on Monday, and got sent home ill twice. So... it sure has been a week. Fortunately I'm finally feeling mostly better, so here - new chapter! [Here's a pic of me in Florida](http://raininginadelaide.tumblr.com/post/152161308430/so-anyway-im-back-from-florida-though-ive-been) with the celeb-est of celebs :3
> 
> As ever, thank you so much for reading and for your feedback, I love you all a lot <3 <3 <3


	6. Chapter 6

They find Dubois at Pollit's major construction site, a new office block going up near the Hudson.

Still in the early stages, its steel skeleton fingers stretch four or so storeys into the pale winter sky. Around the site are various workmen with thick jackets under their high vis vests, either standing around talking or shuffling around seemingly aimlessly. One of them says Dubois is in the office, a beat-up Portakabin at the side of the site, so off they go.

"You think Harold will have spoken to him already?" Steve asks, and Danny nods.

"Definitely. He's probably given him a damn script. But it's the only way we're going to get any answers."

Steve's lips are thin. "I don't like being herded, Danny."

"Yeah, well, too bad. This is our only option. And remember, you've not got a gun so play nice okay?"

"When do I not play nice?" Steve asks with fake confusion and Danny snorts.

Arriving at the office, they knock and a muffled voice tells them to come in.

Inside, the place is a mess, scattered papers everywhere - letters, blueprints, bills – heaped on desks, erupting out of filing cabinets, tacked to the wall. Hard hats are stacked under the window beside a box of slightly grubby yellow vests. At the desk with the fewest piles of paper there’s an older man, maybe in his sixties, who looks like he's been lifted directly from a gangster movie. Shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, trousers with suspenders, dark hair gone grey at the temples. He even has a cigar in his mouth though it isn't lit. He stands as they come in and grins a welcome at them.

"Good morning," Dubois says, accent dripping New York. "I’m Michael Dubois. How can I help you fine gentlemen?"

"Detective Williams, NYPD," Danny says, shifting his coat so Dubois can see his badge. Steve stands by his side, looming over Danny and Dubois both. "This is my partner, Commander Steve McGarrett. Harold Yale told us you might be able to help us out."

"Harold did, huh?" Dubois says, taking the cigar out of his mouth and leaning against the desk. "Me and Harold, we did a lot of work together before he got locked away. He's a damn good businessman - totally legit, I don't care what that jury said."

"I admire your loyalty, but let's stop this beating around the bush, huh?” Danny can hear his own accent getting thicker, slipping into Jersey depths. It’s a thing he does instinctively; it makes the folks you’re talking to feel like you’re on their wavelength, puts them at ease. “You know why we're here."

Dubois smirks at them. "No messing around with you, huh, Detective? Alright, alright. Harold’s lawyers got in touch, said you want to know something about the 718s expanding into Hawaii." Danny nods. "Well - it just so happens that I suspect one of my managers to be involved with those guys, can you believe it? "

"What’s the world coming to," Danny deadpans, and Dubois' smirk grows a little wider.

"Can't find the staff these days, I'm telling you."

"This manager," Steve says, clearly in no mood to play, when is he ever. "I want his name, where we can find him. And I want to know why you're telling us."

Dubois' smirk fades as he looks at Steve, sizing him up. So much for putting the man at ease. As he narrows his eyes, he stands a little taller and looks right into Steve's eyes, squaring up to him - it's like watching a pissing match, seriously.

"His name's Peter Owens, and I'm telling you as a concerned citizen. He always seemed a good guy, you know, a good employee, but lately some of the books in his office have been off. A lot."

"Define a lot."

"Six figures, from some of the company's overseas investments."

"So - what? You're just letting him do it?"

"I was waiting on instructions from my boss as to how we're gonna deal with this," Dubois says, and Danny just bets. He was probably waiting for Harold to give him the okay to off this Owens, but then along came Danny and Steve, ready to solve his problem for him. "But now that the authorities are here, we're happy to place it in your capable hands."

"Right," says Steve, as unconvinced as Danny. "So what do you know?"

"Well, we're not really sure quite what he's up to. All we know is that he's siphoning some company money off to someone called Jonny Viano, a guy with connections to the 718s."

"Wait," Danny says. "Did you say Jonny Viano?"

"Yes, that's right. Some sort of drug dealer, I understand - a terrible business." Dubois shakes his head. "Such a shame that our business has got caught up in all of this."

"Such a shame, yeah, I'm sure all your records are spotless," Steve says, and Dubois gives him a smile that looks like it has too many teeth in it.

"Oh, they are, Commander, I can assure you."

Danny's still reeling. Viano - his murder, Danny's case - is all wrapped up in this. They need to go back to the precinct, talk about it and think it through before they do anything else. Figure out how everything fits together.

"We're going to need to see those bank records," Danny starts, and Dubois is already reaching for a fat manila folder and handing it over.

"All the relevant statements are in there," he says. "When Harold told me what you were looking for I got them ready."

"Very organised, well done," Danny says, flipping through the pages. The bank statements belong to an offshore account of the kind that's legal but make the IRS squint suspiciously. No doubt everything's been cleaned up, all deniable and excusable; they wouldn't give them this if it was likely to bite them in the ass. Most of the transactions are pretty big, to companies that deal in concrete and girders and whatever else construction companies spend their money on, but there are several amounts circled in red to an account that’s referenced only by numbers, not a name. Unless Danny is very much mistaken the amounts add up to the money in Viano's account. 

"So what makes you think that this has anything to do with Viano, or Owens for that matter?" Danny asks, handing the papers over for Steve to look at. "I'm guessing he wasn't the only one with access to these accounts."

"I had friends - accountant friends - look into it," Dubois says with a too-easy shrug. The kind of accountants that lend money and deal with missed payments by breaking fingers and kneecaps, is Danny's guess. "The name's well-hidden but the account belongs to Owens; a look at that account shows a payment being made to Viano."

Danny doesn't bother asking how they know - no doubt these accountants are good with computers too.

"Where can we find Owens?" Steve asks; Dubois hands over a business card with an address in Hell’s Kitchen on it.

"You should be careful, gentlemen," Dubois says with an expression so serious it can't be anything but mockery. "It seems to me that Mr Owens is a dangerous man."

"So are we," says Steve, and Danny puts a hand on his arm.

"Thank you, Mr Dubois, we appreciate this."

"Anything to get a terrible criminal like that off the streets," and how he says that with a straight face Danny doesn't know.

As they leave, Steve is practically vibrating with frustration.

"Down, boy," Danny tells him, and Steve frowns at him.

"Did you _hear_ him? He-"

"I heard him just fine, but I don't care about him right now. Let's look deeper into this and see what Harold wants us to believe about this Owens guy."

"You don't think he's the one responsible for all of this? You think he's a patsy?"

"Nah, I think he's the one we want,” Danny says with a shrug as they leave the construction site and get back into the car. “But Steve - that name Dubois gave, the one who Owens sent the money too? That's our vic - mine and Maddie's."

Steve stares at Danny. "Your case is connected with this?"

"Looks like."

Danny looks through the file again; he’ll have to compare it to Viano’s records to be sure of the amounts, and hope that Renato’s buddies found something about the namless offshore account the money came from. Without it, they’ve only got Dubois’ word that Owens has anything to do with this. 

"So what now?" Steve asks, starting the engine. "We've got an address for the warehouse Owens works at - you want to investigate?"

Danny shakes his head. "We should meet up with Maddie first, compare the stuff Dubois gave us with whatever she’s heard from the forensic accountants. And you're not supposed to be investigating, remember?"

"I'm sure the captain would understand."

"I'm not. And if we are going in there, I don't want you unarmed."

"Aw, Danny, I didn't know you cared."

That throws Danny's mile-a-minute thoughts under the bus and he looks at Steve, feeling a tightness in his chest. "Didn't you? Really?"

Steve looks back at him, the amusement fading from his eyes. "Danny, I - I didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah," Danny says, looking down at the file in his hands. "Yeah, that was always the problem, wasn't it?" The silence between them is like drowning in molasses, and suddenly Danny feels old, so old. "Let's get out of here. Back to the precinct. We need to see what we've got on Owens."

Steve doesn't say anything, doesn't move for a long minute. Danny gazes out of the window, refusing to look at him. How does this keep happening? Things are going good, flowing, the two of them working together as well as they ever did and then _bam_ , sideswiped by all the shit they've never talked about, by all the baggage that they're still dragging behind them, weighed down by regret and guilt and hurt.

Eventually Steve sets off, the drive unnaturally silent save for Danny's occasional directions. When Steve pulls up in front of the precinct and switches the engine off, before Danny can get out, he speaks, quietly.

"I'm sorry, Danny. I really am."

"Yeah," Danny says, wondering exactly how much he's apologising for, and too tired to ask. "Well."

They head up to Danny’s desk, where Maddie is waiting for them – impatiently, from the way she jumps to her feet as soon as she sees them. 

“Danny!” She says, and waves a folder at him. “I got a name for the payments-"

“Peter Owens, works for Pollit?”

She deflates a little and frowns at him. “Do you have to take the wind out of my sails? I put up with Renato for forty minutes to get this.”

“Sorry. Do continue.”

She sighs and folds her arms, pouting in a way that reminds Danny a little too closely of Grace at her most teenaged; thankfully the way her eyes are sparkling tells him it’s a joke. “No, no. I’m just the junior partner – it’s only right that you know more than I do.” She sniffles melodramatically and Danny grins. 

“Your drama school is showing, Mads.”

Laughing, she swats him on the arm with the folder. “Watch it, Jersey.”

Out of the corner of his eye Danny becomes aware of Steve’s shoulders stiffening and he tries not to roll his eyes. _Seriously, Steven, jealousy does not become you._

“So,” Maddie says, looking from Danny to Steve; she doesn’t seem to notice his sudden frostiness, thankfully. "Owens paid Viano – looks like our cases are connected."

"Looks that way."

Looking from one of them to the other, she frowns. "So - what does that mean? Since Steve works for a special task force, can he work out of New York as well? Or maybe because he's in the Navy-"

"Hey, hey, stop putting ideas in his head," Danny says, his tone as exasperated as he feels.

"I've already had those ideas," Steve puts in, and Danny glares at him.

"I know, we were partners for six years, you think I don't know how that brain of yours works?" He taps Steve's temple gently, earning a grin from him; he's pretty sure that Maddie grinning too but she's wise enough to hide it behind her hand. "But the correct answers are, a) this is not a Navy case, and b) no, he doesn't have jurisdiction. Five-0 is not a federal agency, and in case you've not noticed, New York is about as far from Hawai’i as it gets"

A shadow passes Steve's face, and the grin fades. "I'm aware," he says quietly, and Danny feels guilty for all kinds of reasons, though he's pretty sure he's not responsible for most of them. God, they need to talk, and the thought makes Danny extremely uncomfortable. 

Swallowing, Danny pretends he hasn’t noticed. “We already talked about this with Murphy,” he says to Maddie. “She said she’d allow him to question Harold because she doesn’t want the FBI involved. But that’s it.”

"But Maddie's right,” Steve says. “Five-0 is the task force of the governor of Hawai'i, and as such we should get special consideration. Besides, this isn't the first time we've operated on the mainland, Danny. You and Chin worked with NCIS in LA on the smallpox case."

Maddie is staring with them, her eyes wide and her mouth dropped open. She clears her throat and with faux calm says, "I think you forgot to tell me about that one, Danny."

"You don't want to know, trust me," Danny says, and sighs, shaking his head as he regards Steve. "That case was very different to this one and you know it-"

"I know that your case and Callan's cases were connected, and that's why you went to LA."

Danny's lips thin - he's not about to start discussing the narrowly-averted worldwide smallpox crisis in a crowded police precinct, where most of those present are listening in and pretending not to. Steve knows that - it's probably why he brought it up; it takes Danny's ammunition away from him. "Be that as it may. It was still different, for lots of reasons. But hey - I already know you're not gonna listen to me. Like I said, I know you."

"Yeah, Danno, you do," Steve says, and the smile is back along with the _Danno._ "So you know that I'm going to go and explain to your captain that our cases are connected – that I need a firearm and permission to work with you so that we can solve both of them."

"You do that, Steve. She's going to say no, and she has every right to."

"We'll see."

Steve gets up and strides over to the captain's office. Danny's eyes drop to his ass because hey, he’s already all tangled up over Steve so why not make it worse?

"Do you think he'll convince her?" Maddie looks skeptical; she knows Captain Murphy as well as Danny does.

"No, but I think he'll find a way around it." Danny already knows what's going to happen: Murphy is going to say no, again; Steve is going to contact Denning, who will lean on someone who will lean on Murphy, and she's going to hate Five-0 and by association Danny more than ever. It'll be just great.

"But how? I mean, we couldn't just rock up to Hawai'i and take over one of their cases."

"No, but we aren't Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, are we?"

From the office, they can now hear raised voices, muffled, and through the window Danny can see the stiff lines of Steve's back. Murphy has definitely said no, then. The captain looks angrier than Danny has ever seen her, which is saying something. Then again, that's one of Steve's special talents: pissing people off to the nth degree. It's a talent Danny himself has been subject to time and again.

Less than a minute later, Steve comes out of the office, and every cop in the bullpen turns quickly back to face their computer. Except for Danny, that is, who watches Steve and his thunderous face stalk across to his desk. He just about manages to restrain himself from an _I told you so_.

"I hate bureaucrats," Steve says, clutching the back of his chair.

"You hate being told _no_ ," Danny corrects, and Steve glares at him.

"She's being unreasonable." Danny snorts; Steve ignores him. "If she won't listen to reason, I'm just going to go over her head."

"Shocking. I never would have guessed."

"But what can you do?" Maddie asks - she'd been listening in just like everyone else in the bullpen.

Steve purses his lips. "Why don't we go and get a coffee? We should do some handover," he says, looking at Danny, who reads him perfectly, just like always.

"Sure. Maddie, it's your turn to buy."

"Danny-"

"She's my partner, Steve," Danny says, giving Steve a little of that silent communication thing right back.

Steve nods, still holding himself upright, in a very military kind of way, the kind of way that Danny always found secretly hot.

After grabbing their coats they head outside. It's freezing, still, maybe even colder than it was this morning. The sun is out and the sky is that deep, endless blue that you only get in winter, the kind that goes with frost feathers on windows and breath puffing white in the air. Danny loves it - _this_ is what he missed when he was in Hawai'i.

"How about the place up on 85th?" Maddie suggests as she shoves her hands in her pockets. "It's usually a bit quieter in there."

"Sounds good."

They make their way up the street, Steve staying upright and alert. Maddie fills the uncomfortable silence, telling them about a wedding Anna is catering, a celebrity one, it's very hush hush and she shouldn't tell them who it is, but it's a certain pop star dating a certain rapper who met on a reality TV show and it doesn't leave much doubt about who it is. She tells them about the cake - five tiers, each one frosted a different colour, with multi-coloured layers of cake and buttercream inside. By the time they get to the coffee shop Danny is starving and gets a slice of carrot cake and grins at Steve's disapproving frown.

The coffee shop does a brisk takeout service but there's not much in the way of people eating in. There are booths near the back that do a good job of absorbing sound - it's a good place to talk about things you don't want overheard. Danny has a sudden image of a less-than-covert CIA agent meeting a Russian spy in a furry hat, but the CIA agent in his head shifts to Doris McGarrett and it becomes a whole lot less entertaining.

Steve sits first and slides up to the wall; Danny takes the seat next to him, the better to muffle whatever he's saying, and to block him from anyone watching. Not that he thinks that Steve is about to drop state secrets on them, but one never knows. Maddie sits opposite them, pulling off her coat and rubbing her cold cheeks back to life. She looks from one of them to the other and then leans forward.

"I feel like I'm in a spy movie," she stage-whispers with a grin, and Danny's gaze flickers to Steve, who manages a humourless smile. He's thinking of Doris, too.

"Tell me about it," he says, and takes a drink of his black coffee. He gives Danny another look, eyebrow raised slightly.

"You can trust her," he says flatly. "You don't need to be so paranoid all the time, Steve." Steve just looks at him and Danny bites the inside of his cheek, thinking of Doris again, of Wo Fat, and Joe White and all the other people who lied to Steve, who hurt him. "Not now, anyway. You have my word, Steve - we can trust Maddie."

Steve nods, accepting his word without hesitation. "Alright." He looks at Maddie. "This is just between us, alright?"

"I'm a gay cop, Steve, I can keep a secret," she says with a wry smile. He nods.

"Thank you." He takes another sip of his coffee and then steals a forkful of Danny's cake, ignoring his sputtering protest. "I need in on this case. If we can stop this here, if we can take out the people behind this expansion, it will benefit both New York and Hawai'i. Even more so, considering that the expansion is possibly pissing off Mexican cartels and bringing unknown Asian drug gangs into play. The sooner we can end this, the better. You captain doesn't see it that way, so I'm going to open her eyes."

"I'm sure she agrees that this needs ending as quickly as possible. She doesn't see what this has to do with you. The FBI, maybe, CIA, DEA - choose your acronym."

"SEAL," Steve says with a smirk, because he's an ass.

Danny ignores him. "The point is, this is rapidly becoming something that is about to be taken out of our hands."

"Which is all the more reason that we deal with it now, before it is. You know this case, Danny - you know Harold, and he knows you. Do you think he'll be as quick to give up info to some alphabet agent he doesn't know?"

"No," Danny allows, and sits back. He doesn't want to lose the case any more than Steve does, and there's no denying that Steve gets shit done. It's just unfortunate that his way of doing things ends up in violence way too often.

"But," Maddie starts, and licks her lips nervously. "Wouldn't the FBI or whoever have better resources to deal with something like this?"

Danny and Steve share a look.

"There's a reason that cops don't like the FBI," Danny says. "They come in, take over your case and take all the credit. Strong arm you, always assume they know better, even on cases you've been working on for months or years. In theory, yeah, they have more resources but the asshole factor gets in the way. The NYPD will be expected to cooperate with them, but like hell they'll ever cooperate with us."

She chews her lip. "I know that there's a - a rivalry, I guess. I just don't really understand it."

"I don't want to be patronising," Danny says, hating that he sounds just that, "But for now, you'll have to trust us - we don't want them involved unless they have to be. The captain won't, either, but as by-the-book as she is, she'll call them in. She’s already put it off longer than I would’ve expected."

Maddie looks at him for a long moment, considering what he's said, and eventually nods. "I'll trust you, Danny."

"Thank you," Danny says, nodding his gratitude before turning to Steve and touching his forearm where it rests on the tabletop. "And you - what's your plan?"

"I'm going to call Denning," Steve says, and Danny tries not to sigh. He totally called it. "And get him to do whatever's necessary. I need to work with you on this, Danny."

"Yeah, well. I wouldn't mind your help, as long as you remember that police procedure is a thing that we have to follow, okay?"

Steve brightens. "You want to work with me?"

"Not what I said." Danny concentrates on his cake, and ignores Steve's soft, pleased smile and Maddie's grin. He lets the two of them chat about who Denning is, and what he might do, and what, if everything goes to plan, will be their next step.

"We need to speak to Owens," Steve says.

“Yeah, but we need to find out more about him first,” Danny says, and Steve makes a face. 

“More trawling through paperwork?”

“Yep,” Danny says, and takes more delight in it than he probably should.

It’s a long day, and they don’t get much from it. On paper, Peter Owens is a businessman – MBA from Columbia, resume full of Fortune 500 companies, good references on his Linkedin profile, and the dullest Twitter account Danny has ever seen. Other than the offshore account there’s little to suggest he’s involved with anything shady, and it’s very frustrating. The boredom of it all does mean that the tension between him and Steve melts back into the background, leaving them bouncing ideas off one another, touching each other’s arms, shoulders, grinning at each other like it’s the good old days. The tension isn’t gone, it still needs dealing with it and Danny knows it, but the longer he can put it off, the better. 

They call it a day at five, and when they get back to Danny's apartment, Steve pulls out his phone and announces he's going to contact the governor.

While he's doing that, Danny starts dinner - chicken arrabbiata, a good dish for the end of a cold winter's day, warming and comforting. He throws some vegetables in the oven to roast - he'd normally have it with pasta but Steve gets sniffy about carbs. As he stands over the pan, stirring occasionally, he tries not to think about what the hell he's doing, how easily they slipped into this domesticity, but when he's cooking a nice dinner for his sort-of-ex, a date dinner, it's hard _not_ to think about it. Steve McGarrett sidled his way into Danny's life in Hawai'i all those years ago, and he's sidled right back into it here in New York. If he was being _really_ honest, Danny might even, maybe, admit that Steve's never been out of his life. Even though they've not been together, it's been a rare day when he's not thought of Steve. Being glad that he can follow police procedure, or drive his own car; missing his smile or his humour; or those times when he's alone in bed in the dark, a hand wrapped around his own cock - yeah, there are lots of times he's thought about Steve.

_Glutton for punishment,_ Danny thinks to himself, and resolutely refuses to consider suggesting to Steve that they maybe go down that route again. As fun as it might be, he's not sure his heart can take it.

"Hey," Steve says as he comes into the kitchen, and Danny is absolutely not embarrassed about seeing him while thinking of getting each other off, definitely not. "Denning said that it would be beneficial to Hawai'i to get this case solved as soon as possible, and has said that an alliance between Five-0 and the NYPD is the best way to make that happen. He's going to pull some strings."

"So what you're saying is that the Captain is going to be pissed tomorrow."

"Probably. What are you cooking? It smells amazing." He stands a little too close to Danny, looking over his shoulder at the bubbling pan, and Danny is very aware of Steve’s body heat all against his back. He manages to answer without his voice shaking or turning around to kiss him or getting down on his knees in front of him, and Danny’s pretty sure that force of will deserves a round of applause.

"There's a liquor store on the corner, go get us a bottle of wine," Danny tells him, and when Steve pauses, Danny rolls his eyes. "There's money in my wallet."

"That's not - I have money, Danny."

"Then what's the problem?"

Steve is silent for a beat, but shakes his head. "There isn't a problem. I'll be right back."

He leaves, and Danny thinks he knows what the problem is. Steve moved close to him like that on instinct, because that's what they've always done. The touching, the flirting, constantly being in each other's personal space - it started up again almost immediately, without conscious thought on either of their parts. It might be disconcerting if it didn't feel so right.

Biting his lip, he wonders if Steve has ever thought of him while jerking off.

_Inappropriate!_ Danny thinks furiously, and concentrates on cooking.

The wine Steve returns with is absolutely perfect for the dish, to the extent that Danny suspects he did a little googling on the way to the store. The meal is great - obviously - and the roast vegetables go very well with the chicken and the spicy sauce. They linger over it, talking, their legs brushing under the table, and after a couple of glasses of wine Danny feels like there's something inevitable about this, gravity pulling them into each other's orbits, keeping them close together where they belong.

Five thousand miles, Danny tells himself firmly. There are five thousand miles between where Steve lives and where Danny lives - where Danny's kids live - and gravity is a weak force, far too weak to hold them together over that distance. His mind points out that gravity holds the earth to the sun and that's a hell of a lot further than five thousand miles, and Danny scowls at himself and his bad physics.

"Danny? What's that face for?"

"You don't want to know," Danny tells him, and stands up to take the plates into the kitchen, rinsing them before putting them in the dishwasher. And isn't that one of the problems? That he doesn't know if Steve really is feeling this pull in the same way. As much as Danny thinks he is, maybe that's just wishful thinking. Steve isn't with Catherine any more, but he still _went_ to Cath, even though the two of them had - whatever it was that they had. Surely that alone suggests that Steve is nowhere near as into Danny as the other way around.

Cursing, Danny rubs his eyes and pours the last of the wine into his glass, drinking it quickly. Sometimes he really wishes his brain knew when to shut up.

He goes back into the living room to see Steve settled on the sofa, legs crossed, flicking through Netflix. He smiles at Danny, who can't help smiling back.

_Pathetic,_ he thinks, not for the first time, and far from the last, as he sinks onto the sofa beside Steve and tries not to think about how nice it is when their knees touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this part! I got distracted with writing [smutty Halloween college McDanno](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8421952) and then was busy with work. Hopefully I'll get the next chapter up on Sunday though I've got friends visiting for the local comic con so we'll see if I manage it. Soon, in any case!


	7. Chapter 7

When Steve steps out of the captain’s office the next day, Danny stares at the Five-0 badge that’s clipped onto Steve’s belt, the weapons requisition in his hand. 

“I don’t believe it.”

“You should,” Steve says as he strides across the bullpen. “I knew Denning would come through.”

Danny knew he would too, but the speed has taken him by surprise. Cutting through huge amounts of red tape doesn’t happen overnight – apart from, apparently, when it involves Steve. Before Danny can gather his thoughts, Captain Murphy barks at him from her office. She’s standing in her doorway, one hand on her hip, the other white-knuckle tight on the door handle. 

“I blame you for whatever’s about to happen,” Danny says as he passes Steve, then steps into Murphy’s office, feeling like he’s a Greek hero about to face a wrathful goddess.

“I assume you knew all about this,” Murphy says in a low, furious voice as she stalks to her desk. Danny’s temper flares instantly, the way it always does when someone blames him for something that isn’t his fault. 

“I knew about it, but I had nothing to do with it,” he says, the anger bubbling into his voice; Murphy’s used to far worse and ignores it, shuffling some papers on her desk and shoving them in one of her many in-trays. 

“You do now. You’ll be working with him, since your cases are connected, and I will hold you entirely responsible for anything that happens. For your sake, I hope that this gets wrapped up quickly.”

“Yeah, well, so do I,” he snaps. 

She gives him a sharp look. “Watch it, Williams. Commander McGarrett tells me you have a lead, an interview with a possible money launderer?”

“That’s right – someone who decided he’d take a bit of that laundry for himself. Harold Yale wants him taken out of commission – you don’t screw the 718s over and get away with it.”

“Remember what I said, Detective. I want this by the book. No complaints, no violence. No Five-0 style shenanigans.”

“We’ll do our best, Captain,” Danny says drily, but he can’t say he disagrees. 

===

Two hours later, the shooting starts and Danny is pretty sure Murphy jinxed them. 

They’d gone along to the warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen to talk to Owens. Steve was driving – Danny’s accepted his fate – and regaling Maddie with the more outlandish tales of Five-0, and he really shouldn’t have that much glee in his voice when he’s talking about shit like that. 

When they’d arrived, Steve’s spidey-senses had started tingling. He’d peeked into the warehouse and seen that something was going down – shady-looking folks with assault rifles moving boxes of what was most likely drugs. 

There was a quick argument that Steve won - _we could end this right now, Danny_ \- and they threw on tac vests, drew guns, called back up but didn’t wait for them to arrive before going in. 

Right now Danny is wishing he’d pushed harder against that. They’d tried the whole _NYPD, freeze!_ thing, but when the hell does that work? Instead the bad guys turned on them and started shooting, and here they are, pinned behind packing crates. 

“God fucking damn it,” Danny swears, glancing over at another pile of packing crates ten feet away that Steve and Maddie are using as cover. Steve is focused and ready, but Maddie’s eyes are wide, grip on her gun tight. Though she’s not been in any shoot outs before, she didn’t hesitate to come in here with them, knowing it could end up like this. She must be nervous as all hell, but she’s got Steve with her and Danny wouldn’t trust anyone more. 

Steve stands, getting off a few shots before ducking back down. Three your side, he signals. Four ours. 

“Fantastic," Danny grouses. "Three cops including one rookie detective with pistols versus seven assholes with assault rifles. What could be better?” 

There’s a moment of silence and one of the bad guys calls out, “We’re gonna put you down, pigs! And when we do, people will start respecting us!”

“Or you could just surrender,” Danny suggests. 

His only answer is a hail of bullets. Do people really have to be so predictable? 

Danny takes a moment to assess: he’s got one spare mag on his belt, thinks Steve has the same, knows Maddie doesn’t. That’s not many bullets between them, not in a shootout like this. Maddie’s on her phone – chasing that backup, Danny presumes, and pride wells in him at seeing her keeping her head despite the fear. 

He meets Steve’s eye and they nod at each other before standing and returning fire. Danny clips one guy in the shoulder, sees Steve hit another, but have to duck again when someone actually starts aiming. Five to three, slightly better, and it’s clear that most of these guys don’t have a clue what they’re doing. They don’t seem to have much spare ammo, either, so with the way they’re wasting bullets maybe they’ll run out first. 

Looking over at Steve again, their eyes meet and they move together, standing, shooting. Maddie stands too, and in his peripheral vision Danny sees her move into a perfect stance, take the time to aim, and gets one of them in the thigh. Steve gets another, but Danny’s out of bullets and gets back into cover to reload. The others drop too, but as Danny slides his spare mag home, he hears Maddie yelp and then a single shot, closer than the others. His head snaps to the side to see Steve standing protectively in front of Maddie before crumpling to the floor. 

There’s one long, horrible second when _no_ consumes Danny’s whole being, just the word, like if he thinks it hard enough it won't have happened. And then the fear and anger kick in, swelling like a gathering storm. He shoots the guy in the doorway without even consciously realising he’s there. Popping back up he hits one of the last three guys between the eyes, and the other two push each other out of the way in their hurry to get out of the warehouse. Danny hears sirens – the back up, fucking finally – and lets himself focus on Steve. 

_Please be okay,_ he thinks as he runs across the open space between the crates and kneels at Steve’s side. Danny vaguely notices that Maddie is already on the phone asking for a bus but most all of his focus is on Steve. His eyes are open but he’s clearly in a shitload of pain. He took the shot in the vest but at close range like that, it’s still bad news. 

“Steve, you with me, babe?” Danny asks, cupping Steve’s cheek, and he nods. 

“Uh. Yeah. Fuck, that hurts.”

“Even you, Super SEAL?” Danny says, and carefully pulls Steve’s vest off so he can assess the damage. “So you’re not a robot after all, who knew.”

Steve laughs and then moans. “Don’t make me laugh, man. And you need some new material.”

“Yeah, yeah, you love it,” Danny grins at him, but it quickly drops away when he pulls Steve’s shirt up and sees the nasty-looking bruise already forming over his stomach. 

“The ambulance’ll be here in a few,” Maddie says softly, her voice trembling. When Danny glances at her, she’s looking at Steve with wide eyes. “But – he was wearing a vest, he’ll be okay, right? Right?”

“Even with a vest, there’s a danger of internal bleeding,” Steve says, voice strained, and Danny tells him to shut up as panic starts to bubble alarmingly, on the verge of boiling over. He does _not_ need to think about that. 

“You’re going to be fine,” he says, hearing the strain in his voice. “You were a SEAL, you’re indestructible.”

But the thing is – the thing is, they’ve been here too many times. Danny tries to rein in his panic, but all the times he’s seen Steve hurt race through his mind with agonising clarity. North Korea, Afghanistan. Max’s apartment after Hesse shanked him, Wo Fat’s fucking torture chamber, god, _Steve_. 

“You need to stop getting hurt,” Danny tells him, and hates how broken he sounds, feels. Steve gives him a pained smile and wraps his hand around Danny’s wrist. 

“I’ve been worse.”

“I _know_. That’s the problem, asshole.”

“Danny,” Steve says. Just his name and nothing else, but there’s so much in his eyes. It’s like the last nine months haven’t happened, it’s like their best days – the ones spent at Steve’s place, in bed, in front of the TV, out on the lanai – relaxed, at ease, _happy_. Or even the ones at work, completely in tune with each other, having each other’s back and moving in tandem. There’s just the two of them. Together. 

Danny lifts a hand to Steve’s cheek again, feels the softness of skin, the roughness of stubble. “We still need to talk, so you have to be okay, got it?”

Steve nods, and then sits up, ignoring Danny’s protests and moves to lean against a crate, breathing hard. “I am. Just – it hurts, you’ve been shot, you know it does. But I’m okay. I just need a minute.”

“You need something,” Danny mutters, but the fact that Steve can sit up is a good sign, one that convinces his heartrate to calm down a little. 

Back-up comes in then, a handful of uniforms, and after touching Steve’s cheek again to reassure himself, Danny stands and starts snapping orders. He sends one group after the two runners, another to check the assholes littering the warehouse floor. One of them he sends to call for the ME, and another ambulance to take care of whatever bad guys are still alive. 

The first bus pulls up moments later, the two paramedics running in and focusing straight on Steve, who tries to get up under his own steam until Danny turns his fiercest glare on him. 

“You will stay still while they check you or so help me, Steve.”

“I’m fine-“

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Just don’t, okay? Stay there for one goddamn minute.”

The paramedics check him over with carefully blank expressions – too blank, in Danny’s opinion, though he’s aware that he’s still riding the jittery wave of panic and it’s maybe affecting his judgement. 

Another pair of paramedics come in and go over to the shooters but Danny couldn’t care less about them right now. He’s watching the ones with Steve, trying to figure out what they’re thinking. 

“It looks like it’s just the bruise,” one of them says. “But we should get you to the hospital to be on the safe side.”

“I’m fine-”

“Listen to them, Steven,” Danny says, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound as strung out as it does, but it gets Steve to listen so Danny really, really doesn’t care. He still gets to his feet despite Danny cursing him out, though he accepts support from Danny and Maddie, which is something. 

They get him over to the ambulance, onto the stretcher in the back. Steve lies down with an _oof_ and a wince, which is about the same as a scream of agony from anyone else. 

“Go with him,” Maddie says, touching Danny’s arm as the paramedics climb on board, getting ready to go. 

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he says, feeling torn; as much as he wants to go with Steve and make sure he’s okay, he doesn’t want to abandon Maddie.

“It’s okay,” Maddie says, her voice unsteady. She clears her throat, and sounds better when she continues. “Go with him. I’m fine. I’ll take your car back to the station, start on the reports. Really. I just want to go back to my desk and not talk to anyone for a little while. Okay?”

After looking at her closely to be sure she’s not putting on a brave face, Danny nods – he gets it. He remembers his first big shoot out, only a few weeks out of the academy. He needed some time to himself to get his shit together, went and hid in the bathroom until he stopped shaking. If she needs that too, he’s more than happy to give it to her. Later, when she’s up to it, they can talk as much as she likes, but if she wants some time out right now, he’ll give it to her. 

“Okay. Call me if you need me,” he says, and squeezes her shoulder before she hops down to the ground. 

As they head to the hospital, the paramedics doing their thing, Danny starts ranting, telling Steve how he _told_ him, didn’t he _tell_ him that he didn’t want to visit him in hospital in New York? 

“Sorry, D,” Steve says, grinning. He looks far more relaxed than he should and Danny wants to get mad about that, too, but he’s pretty sure at least half the blame belongs to whatever was in that shot the paramedic just gave him. 

“You better be.” When he feels something squeeze his hand he looks down, sees Steve’s ridiculously huge hand wrapped around his. “You better be fine, too.”

“I am, man; I’m with you,” Steve says with a lazy smile, and Danny feels emotions ricocheting against his ribs. He wants to say something, he wants to say so many things, but in the end he just shakes his head. 

“What am I gonna do with you, huh?” He asks quietly, and Steve grins. 

“You want a list? ‘Cause I can give you a list, Danno.”

Danny snorts. “You’re such a Neanderthal. Just shut up and rest.”

“Yessir.”

It isn’t far to the hospital, and the roads are clear, thankfully. Danny sends off a text to Maddie; she texts back quickly, saying she’s fine, asking after Steve. 

_Just look after yourself,_ Danny sends. _Go home if you need to_.

She replies saying she wants to keep busy, and yeah, Danny gets that, he wishes he had something to distract himself from the frown on the paramedic’s face as he checks on Steve. But he has Steve’s hand in his, still; his grip is strong and dry, and he’s warm, if a little pale. Those are good signs.

When they arrive the paramedics wheel the stretcher in despite Steve’s insistence that he can walk. They’re met by medical staff, one of whom makes Danny stay back and ignores both of their protests. 

"But he's my partner," Danny says as Steve is wheeled through a set of double doors, not caring that it isn't true. He needs to know Steve is okay, he just needs to - he needs to _do_ something.

"I understand,” the nurse says. “But we need to do some tests, make sure there's no internal bleeding or other damage. Please, just wait - we'll give you an update as soon as we can."

"I- Fine," Danny says, feeling a little unsteady. Everything has happened so quickly, and Danny should be used to it, should be able to adapt and overcome, but it seems that life with the NYPD has made him soft. He sits down heavily in a nearby chair, resting his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. The important thing is the tests, he knows that, the important thing is being sure that a bruise is as bad as it gets. It's just - he wants-

He doesn't even know what he wants, other than for Steve to be _okay_. He wants to hold his fucking hand or something, convince himself that Steve's fine; this is just another scare to add to the many others.

The nurse leaves, heading through those double doors and leaving Danny in the waiting room with the rest of the worried loved ones.

His lips twitch at the thought.

Steve will be fine. Steve will be fine because he's always fine, within a given and twisted definition of the word. 

He's always fine and he’ll be fine now. He _has_ to be.


	8. Chapter 8

Danny's not sure how long it takes for the nurse to return. He's been sitting here in the noisy waiting room amidst the chattering and crying and yelling, ignoring it all and staring at the opposite wall, growing very familiar with the hairline cracks and the flaking paint as his brain cycles over and over the facts.

He is not over Steve.

He is _so_ not over Steve.

There are snide little remarks in his head about how obvious he is – all the times he's flirted with Steve, the times he's stared at his ass or his arms, the way he smiles dopily at him and their shared jokes.

But what it comes down to is this: he’s not over Steve, not a little bit.

And hopefully this isn't just wishful thinking, but he doesn't think Steve is over him, either.

But even if that’s true, where does it leave them?

"Detective Williams?"

Danny's head snaps up, and he focuses on the nurse. He's smiling, which Danny hopes is a good thing.

"Yeah? You finished the tests?"

"We have. Commander McGarrett is absolutely fine. He's just getting dressed, and he'll be right out."

"Thank you," Danny says, more fervently than he would like - so much for cool and collected - but the important bit is that Steve's fine, Steve's okay.

He slumps in his chair with a loud exhale.

_Thank fuck._

How much more awkward would his little crush be if Steve was really hurt, huh? How long would Danny be sitting by Steve's bed worrying over him and bitching him out, conscious or not. How much would seeing Steve that break his heart, break _him?_

Steve comes out into the waiting room just a few moments later with an easy grin, and Danny wants to punch it off his face, or maybe kiss it off. Either. Both.

"Let's get back to the precinct," is the first thing Steve says. "I want an update - have you heard anything?"

"No." Danny pushes to his feet and wants very badly to hug Steve. Instead he touches his arm, and it's warm and solid and safe beneath his fingers. He swallows. "But shouldn't you get some rest?"

"I will, later," Steve says, and Danny doesn't believe him for a second.

He sighs to let Steve know he's not convinced. "Fine. Let's go."

He turns and stalks out of the hospital before his resolve crumbles and he does something embarrassing.

When they get back to the precinct, they find out that the last two bad guys got away, and isn't that the icing on the cake? To add to the joy, the two beat cops who were supposed to catch the runners are of the 'fuck Five-0' persuasion and straight up sneer at Steve and Danny as they give them the news, a nasty glint in their eyes as if daring them to reprimand them. Steve's jaw tightens but he doesn't say anything. Danny gives them a mean little smile as he tells them that he’ll make sure the captain knows about their role in this, and takes pleasure in the panic on their faces. Her bark is way worse than Danny's.

After speaking to those assholes, they go back to Danny's desk. Opposite, Maddie is hidden behind stacks of papers and she's bent forward so that her curls are covering her face.

"Hey," Danny says softly. She jerks up, startled, but when she sees Steve she smiles, wide and bright and so damn open that Danny has to wonder if he was ever so free with his emotions.

"Steve! You're okay?"

"Other than some bruising, yeah."

Danny snorts. "He’s invulnerable, or at least he thinks he is."

Steve gives him a warm smile that does things to Danny that he’d never admit. "Yeah, and you weren't worried about me at all, were you Danno?"

"Worried about you? I was having flashbacks is what I was doing. Now sit," Danny says, pointing at his chair and grabbing one of the shitty plastic ones for himself.

Steve, for his part, is grinning like a loon; Danny chooses to ignore him. Instead he looks at Maddie, whose face is still drawn despite her smile.

"How are you doing, Detective?" He asks. She looks at him, blinking, and then looks down at her hands.

"I'm - okay. A little shaky. Knowing Steve is okay helps." She looks up at him with a smile. "Thank you, by the way. You might have saved my life."

"Any time," Steve says with a smile so dashing that it almost distracts Danny from noticing Steve messing with his chair settings.

"Stop that," he says and bats Steve's hands away from the levers; Steve ignores him and raises the seat to account for his giraffe legs. "Fine. Whatever. Maddie, did you manage to find anything out?"

She nods and hands over one of the many files from her desk. "Quite a bit, actually. Those guys that we shot, most of them were in the system. Not all 718 related, though – two of them were affiliated with a branch of the Triads. The boxes were drugs, like Steve suspected, but a couple of them were different than the others. Forensics are doing some tests, but Narcotics think that they belong to those Triads. It's something cheap and nasty that they’ve been peddling in recently, and Narcotics are worried about it, that the price might spark a new epidemic."

"Let's hope not. But for right now we need Narcotics to hold off – we need to talk to those scumbags from the warehouse first."

Maddie nods. “Three of them are still alive. Two were treated at the hospital and released into police custody – they’re in lock up now and refusing to say a word, other than to lawyer up. One needed surgery and he’s still out – we’ve got a cop guarding his room and we’ll know as soon as he’s awake. He might talk.”

“Maybe,” Danny says, and sighs, rubbing at his eyes. Which is just when Captain Murphy barks his name across the office. Honest to god, he feels like he’s aged ten years since this morning. 

“I can give her the report,” Steve says, moving to get up and wincing as he does. Danny reaches out to keep him sat down, then stares for a moment at his hand on Steve’s thigh, at the solid strength of it under his hand. 

When he realises he’s staring, he gets up very quickly and shakes his head. “It’ll be better if I do it, but if I don’t survive, tell Grace and Charlie I love them.” 

He goes to Murphy’s office, and she’s exactly as angry – and loud – as Danny had expected. It’s a good job he feels so exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day because he doesn’t have it in him to respond in kind. Instead he lets her talk herself out of steam, like he does with perps, and marvels at how easily that comes to him. With Steve, Danny argued at every turn – but then Steve never really felt like his boss. He was his partner, his friend – someone he _could_ argue with, yell at when necessary, which was often. He doesn’t have that sort of relationship with Maddie, and he’s never had it with anyone else, either, now that he thinks of it. Other than Rachel, he supposes, which – yeah. Why exactly it took them both so long to notice that the heat simmering between them was attraction – at least in part – is anyone’s guess, and also? Kind of embarrassing. 

“…do I make myself clear, Detective?” The captain finishes, sounding quieter now, and Danny realises he hasn’t been listening to a single word. 

“Perfectly,” he responds, not wanting to admit it and raise her ire all over again. “But do you think you could email the main points? It’s best to have something written down for Steve so that you can smack him in the face with it when necessary.”

That even gets a smile from her, or a smirk, anyway, and she nods. “Fine. You’d better get to your paperwork – there’ll be a lot of it after today.”

Danny tries not to wince, and nods instead, taking that as dismissal.

They spend the rest of the afternoon filling in paperwork, eating banh mi at their desks and suffering through the precinct’s terrible coffee. By 3pm Danny is clockwatching, feeling tired and wired and wanting nothing more than to just go home with Steve and in all honesty, he just wants to sit on the damned couch and hold him, to swear at him for putting himself in danger, to thank him for protecting Maddie. To put his arms around him and feel him breathe, drink in his warmth and let it settle the last of his panic. 

He doesn’t let himself go too far down the path of those thoughts, he can’t deal with that here at work or possibly anywhere. Instead he concentrates on showing Maddie how to fill in the reports, making sure to make bitchy comments about all the creativity he had to use to complete them in Hawai’i. 

Grenades! Rocket launchers! He complains, but when Steve grins at him, he can’t help but grin back. 

"How about we call it a day and go get a drink?" Steve suggests when the other cops in the bullpen start to trickle out. "After a day like this one, I think we could all use it."

Maddie nods, but then pauses. "Are you allowed to drink with your painkilers?"

"He didn't take them," Danny says, and Steve grins at him.

"You know me so well, buddy."

"I know you're an asshole," Danny mutters and Steve nudges him with his shoulder.

"You say the nicest things."

"I say the things you deserve to hear."

Steve laughs at that, because he is indeed an asshole.

There’s still a shitload of paperwork to complete but a drink or two sounds like a much better option. The paperwork can wait. 

They go to a place on the boundary of their precinct and another, and it’s crowded with cops at varying stages of drunk. The floors are sticky and the place reeks of stale ale; the mirror behind the bar is cracked and the neon bar signs flicker. It’s the kind of place that still seems smoky and hazy, for all that smoking in bars has been illegal for years. In short, it’s the kind of place that’s as far from the cocktail bars of Honolulu as it’s possible to get, but Steve looks as at ease here as he does anywhere else. 

They manage to snag a table near the back of the room as a group leaves, one with tall stools gathered around a sticky table covered with empty glasses and torn up beer mats. A tired looking woman with faded pink hair comes to clear up the glasses and gives them a welcoming smile. She takes their orders and brings their drinks quickly along with a bowl of bar snacks – the best kind of service.

Maddie drinks her beer a little too quickly, the glass empty by the time Danny and Steve are barely a third into theirs.

"How about we get some food?" Danny suggests, grabbing a menu from a nearby table since their own isn't graced with one. If they're going to be drinking hard they should eat, and yeah, maybe that's Danny's paternal side coming through there but what's wrong with that? It’s the exact kind of stodgy bar food he’d expect from a place like this – no truffle fries or hand-reared salmon here. He gets a dog, Maddie goes for some wings, and Steve chooses a burger with pineapple on it, probably just to spite Danny – an idea that is vindicated when he grins at Danny as he orders it.

It’s tasty if not spectacular, and it feels nice to have a full belly and drink beer after a day like today. It seems normal; a reminder that no matter how close things got, it turned out good, and the way that Danny and Steve’s knees bump against each other under the table reinforces that. 

"Have you ever frozen like that?" Maddie asks on her third drink, Danny and Steve's second. Her hands are tight around her glass. She's staring at the bubbles in her beer, frowning deeply at them.

"Sure," Danny says, reaching over to squeeze her arm. "It's natural, Maddie. It was your first time - you can't expect to handle it the same way someone with years of experience. And for what it's worth, you kept your head, called backup and called a bus. You did great."

"But Steve got hurt because of me!"

"I got hurt because of that asshole with a gun," Steve says. "There's no possible way that you can blame yourself for that. And Danny's right - you did good for your first time."

"I only got one shot off!"

"Yeah, but being so quick to call backup and an ambulance could've been the different between getting the bad guys, or between life and death."

"We didn't catch the bad guys though," Maddie says glumly and finishes half her beer in one go. "If I'd-"

"You did everything right," Danny says, soothing as he can make it. "Stop blaming yourself."

"And if Steve had been killed?" She asks sharply, meeting his eyes with her own haunted ones. "Would you say the same thing then?"

"But he didn't," Danny says, refusing to think about it any further than that. "And I wouldn't've blamed you because it absolutely, one hundred percent, wasn't you fault."

"But-"

"Hey," Steve says softly. "No buts. Don't question yourself here. Take it from me, okay? I've worked with all kinds of people over the years, and I _know_ you did everything right. Anyone can freeze in a moment like that. Look - do you get down to the gun range often?"

She shakes her head. "Not really."

"Then do it. As much as you can. That's the best thing you can do - keep at it until it it becomes second nature to you. Next time, you'll respond naturally."

"Is that what you did? In SEAL training?"

"Sure. When you keep doing the same thing over and over again, it conditions you to respond automatically, so that you don't even need to think. But Maddie, remember, me and Danny have years and years of experience. You can't expect to respond the same way we did. I can tell you this though - from what I've seen today, in a few years’ time you have the potential to be better than either of us."

She's blushing now, and Danny smiles. Raising his glass he says, "One hundred percent agreed. To you, Maddie, an excellent detective in the making."

"Stop," she says, but Steve clinks his glass to Danny's.

"To Maddie," he agrees, and both of them take a gulp of their beer. Then Steve looks at Danny with a slow, slanted smile. "You weren't bad either, Danno."

"Not bad, huh? Now that's the kind of high praise I expect from you."

"You waited at the hospital for me."

Danny blinks. This conversation has taken an unexpected detour, and he swallows. "Of course I did. Like you said - you do something often enough, it becomes automatic, like muscle memory."

"Oh yeah?" Steve's hand goes to Danny's knee and he freezes. The hand is warm through the fabric of his slacks and maybe it's the beers talking but that feels good. Really good.

"Did you really expect anything different?" He asks, looking at Steve, who's still smiling.

"I didn't know. I hoped you would. I really hoped so." His words are soft, and they're looking at each other now, and Steve is a fucking beautiful man, and- He's _Steve,_ and everything Danny's ever felt for him comes crashing down around him, making it hard to breathe.

"I hate it when you get hurt," he murmurs. "I just - I get so fucking scared, Steve. I hate being scared. And I hate fucking waiting rooms, not knowing if you - if this is going to be the time your luck runs out because one day it will, Steven. And on that day I'm going to - I don't know. I don't fucking know."

"It's not today," Steve says, and when Danny looks up he's moved closer, maybe a foot between them. Danny could kiss him, he could and he wants to, wants to taste him and convince himself that Steve's okay, sure that a kiss would ease some of the tightness in his chest.

Danny shakes his head, not sure what to say next but this moment is significant, it's important, it means something - could mean lots of things. “Steve, I-“

"We ready for another drink?" Their server asks, breaking into the moment, and Danny jerks backwards, the rest of the world slamming back into focus, because oh, yeah, they're in public, they're not alone, and from the way Maddie is most definitely Not Looking at them, she totally saw everything.

"Uh, sure," Danny says, finishing off his beer and slamming it down with more force than he meant to. "One more. Why not."

And Steve's hand is still on his leg.

After the drinks are finished and the bill is paid, they head outside. It’s snowing again, lightly right now, but it’s forecast to get worse; looking up at the big, slow flakes, Danny hopes they’re home before it does. They take the subway to Maddie’s stop and walk her the few blocks home.

"I don't need an escort," she tells them, words slurring a little. She wags her finger at them. "I'm a police officer, you know."

"Sure, but it's only a little out of our way and what can I say, I'm a dad."

"Will you be walking Steve home, too?" She asks, a little sniffily, and Danny grins at her.

"Since he's staying with me, yeah."

She grins now, her annoyance dropping away. "Is he staying in your bed, too? Because if he's not, he should be. So you can look after him, you know. It would be for the best."

"Madeline Morris, get your thoughts out of my bed," Danny says, and she laughs at what Danny's pretty sure is a blush. He blames the burning of his cheeks on the cold or maybe the alcohol, even though he didn't have nearly enough for that. "Now look, Anna is waiting for you." She is, too, looking out of the window with what looks like amusement aimed in his direction. With a sinking feeling, Danny thinks that Maddie might have been giving her text updates all night.

"Guess I better go," she says, and gives them both another grin. "I hope you have a _very_ good night."

"Oh, we will," Steve says, and Danny throws a glare at him, one he ignores with feigned innocence. 

She climbs the stairs of her stoop and gives them a little wave before laughing at them and going inside.

"So," Steve says, smiling down at Danny. "We got interrupted back at the bar, but I feel like you were going to say something important."

"Was it about getting inside out of the snow?" Danny asks. "Because that's what's on my mind right now."

"That so?"

"That's so."

They set off to the subway station but Steve just won't leave well enough alone. "For what it's worth, it meant a lot to me to see you waiting for me at the hospital."

"Oh yeah?"

Steve nods, putting his hands in his pockets at the snow comes down a little heavier. "I was sure when I called you that you'd tell me to go fuck myself." Danny snorts. "But you were - there was a connection, you know? Instantly. Like what happened - didn't happen."

"We've always had a connection," Danny says, despite himself, despite how much he thinks this is a bad idea. "One way or another."

"Yeah. Yeah, we have." Steve smiles at him. "God, I missed you," he says suddenly, and Danny swallows.

"You said that already," he mutters, but doesn't seem to be able to keep quiet because he adds, "And I already said I missed you. So much, Steve, every day." He wants to blame the alcohol for his honesty, but the fact is, he couldn't lie about this. He doesn't like lying full stop, but this - it's messy and it's complicated but it's important. It's too important to talk about when they're both kinda drunk, to be honest, but here they are. They arrive at the subway station, heading below ground and through the turnstile. They're just in time for a train, mostly empty at this time of night, and they sit close despite the almost empty carriage. Steve's thigh is pressed alongside Danny's, hip to knee, hard and hot. Danny looks down at it, swallowing.

God.

This - this is a bad idea. It is. He knows it. But still his hand moves, without input from his brain, to rest on Steve's thigh. Steve looks at him sharply, but it melts into a smile quickly. Danny feels him relax next to him, watches Steve rest his hand on Danny's, interlacing their fingers.

And maybe it is a bad idea, but it feels so good.

They don't say anything the whole way home. By the time they leave the train the snow is coming down in earnest, and Steve looks out at it with a grin.

"Don't get much of this in Hawai'i, huh?" Danny says, pulling his scarf a little tighter, and Steve laughs.

"Sure don't."

Heads bowed, they make their way back to Danny's apartment as quickly as they can, not talking, but Danny's mind is racing. What's going to happen when they step through his door? Is Steve going to pretend the hand-holding didn’t happen? Does Danny want him to?

When they _do_ step through his door and Steve pushes him against the wall and kisses him, hot and wet and more than a little desperate, it turns out the answer to both is no. Danny kisses him back, feeling Steve's stubble scrape against his chin, a thrill chasing through him.

He doesn’t care how bad an idea this is, all he cares about is that Steve’s alright, he’s _here_ , and nothing has ever felt this right since his best days with Rachel. Steve is just- Fuck, Danny doesn't have the words for it, not for any of it, the only word reverberating through his head is _yes_.

Steve pulls back, breathing hard, and looking as scared as Danny has ever seen him. "Danno - I'm sorry-"

"Don't be sorry, don't be sorry just get back to what you were doing," Danny breathes, pulling Steve back to him as gently as he can, mindful of his injuries. Now that he has permission, Steve has no such compunction, pressing his body against Danny, one hand on the wall beside his head, the other at the side of his neck. He's got such big, strong hands and every memory of them against his skin is flashing through Danny's mind, he wants, he _wants_ , and praise the lord, it looks like he's going to get.

Steve's tongue presses into Danny's mouth, insistent, hungry, grabbing control, and that's just so _Steve_ , isn't it, so Steve and so good. Danny makes a noise, something like a whine, something desperate and needy and it might be embarrassing except for just how well both of those things describe him, not just right now but since the instant he saw Steve again. Hell, since the first time he spoke to Steve on the phone, however pathetic that is.

"What are you up for?" Danny asks when he has to break away to breathe. "And don't say everything, I know how much you must be hurting."

"'M fine," Steve says, like the asshole he is, then pauses and grins. "Although now that I think about it, I could do with something to take my mind off the pain."

Danny laughs and on a wave of courage, reaches between them to squeeze Steve's already interested cock into full hardness. At the feel of Steve’s cock in his hand, the last of Danny’s doubts are swept away by a surge of lust, and he lets himself admit that he wants this every bit as much as Steve does. "Something like a blowjob, you mean?"

Steve grins widely. "I think that would do it, yeah."

Danny snorts and grabs Steve by the shirt, dragging him by the shirt towards the sofa, then thinking better of it and leading him to the bedroom instead. Sitting will put more pressure on Steve’s injuries than lying down will.

When Steve notices that they're in his bedroom he looks around with a grin and then moves to pull his shirt off over his head and then stops, wincing.

"Hey, Superman, it has buttons for a reason, okay?" Danny's fingers fly over the buttons, plucking them free, and starts to ease the shirt off his shoulders before he's stopped by the sight of Steve's torso. The bruise on his stomach is nasty, deep purple and taking up most of the real estate. "Jesus, Steve-"

"Don't you dare back out now," Steve says, and then he's kissing him again, backing them up to the bed and falling into it, pulling Danny with him. Danny falls awkwardly, trying not to collapse onto him and hurt him.

"Get up to the pillows," Danny says and Steve does as he's told, for once, piling them up so that he can put his hands behind his head and have the best view of the action. Well, that just means Danny has to make it a good show, right? He unbuckles Steve's belt and pulls his cargos down, throwing them aside. Steve's cock is so hard, tenting his next blue briefs, and Danny can only stare for a moment. Bruise or no, Steve looks incredible. The muscles and the tattoos and the scars, and that _smirk_ \- they do things to Danny, make him hot all over, make him even harder, maybe, if that's even possible, and they also make him a little emotional too, or maybe that's just the beers.

Putting his hands to Steve's chest, Danny slowly rakes his fingers through Steve's chest hair, then down, gently, gently, over the bruise, before hooking his thumbs into the waistband of the briefs. His eyes flick up to Steve's face and sees him watching intently.

"You sure about this, babe?" Danny asks, and Steve nods.

"Very."

"You asked for it," Danny says, and slides the briefs down and off.

And then he stares, biting his lip. Steve has a nice cock, but Danny knew that already. He is, in fact, intimately familiar with it, with how it feels in his hand, his mouth, what he tastes like.

He bites his lip harder.

"You okay, Danny?"

"Very," Danny echoes, and hunkers down between Steve's legs, not bothering to get undressed himself. It's more important right now that he gets his lips round Steve's cock, pretty much the most important thing in the world. So he licks his lips and then leans in to lick his way up Steve's shaft and oh, _yeah_ , that's so fucking good, especially with the choked noise Steve gives. It's all Danny needs to lose himself in it, licking him all over and then wrapping his lips around the head. He glances up at Steve because he _knows_ he likes that, likes seeing Danny with a mouthful of cock.

"Fuck," Steve moans, mouth open, pupils blown, and yeah, that's exactly what Danny wanted to see. His own cock is hard and heavy in his pants but that's the least of his concern right now. It's been a while since he gave anyone a proper blowjob - he gave Ben a few half-hearted ones which he seemed to enjoy, but McGarrett deserves the very best.

Holding his cock at the base, Danny sinks his lips down as far as he can until it hits the back of his throat, he pulls back and goes again, taking him deeper, smiling at the noises Steve is making. Yes, Danny Williams gives excellent head when he puts his mind to it, gives fucking _amazing_ head, thank you very much, and it's about time Steve remembered.

"Fuck, Danny," Steve whines, a hand resting in Danny's hair as he works. Danny sinks into the feeling, into the taste of him, the weight of his cock on his tongue, in his throat, drowning in the noises Steve makes, the strangled groans and gasps of a Navy lifer still not used to privacy, not even after all these years. But that's _Steve,_ and that only makes it hotter to Danny, especially when he gets close, gasping and writhing and biting down on his bottom lip until it's red. With his spare hand Danny reaches down to unbuckle his own belt, undo his own fly, and he starts to jerk himself off as he blows Steve.

And when Steve comes with a truncated yelp that's all Danny needs, _fuck_ , he swallows him down, every drop and then kneels up so that he can come over Steve's belly, over the bruise, and fuck, that shouldn't be hot but it is.

They stare at each other, Danny kneeling, Steve laid out and debauched beneath him, and Danny thinks that this might be the best night he's had since moving to New York.

"C'mere," Steve says, voice ragged. Danny does as he's asked, lying alongside Steve so that they can kiss, slow and deep and wet, taking their time with it, lazy and lingering, pleasure winding its way through Danny's body, right down to his toes.

"You should be illegal," Danny tells him, words slurring a little.

"I'm wanted in a few countries, is that the same thing?"

"You're wanted right here, babe," Danny says, and there's sweetness in the grin Steve gives him.

"Right back at you, Danno."


	9. Chapter 9

A horn blaring outside wakes Danny in the dark.

His fragmented consciousness swims together and he glares towards the window, then-

Oh.

Yeah.

He's not alone.

He looks to the side, sees a tattoo he knows as well as the ones inked into his own skin. And then he looks up to see Steve already awake. He looks refreshed for once. The mix of booze and sex, Danny guesses, resulted in the most sleep Steve's had since he got here.

They look at each other, and Danny thinks maybe he should be nervous, maybe he should be having second thoughts, maybe telling Steve to get out of his bed or pretending it never happened. But he doesn't want that. Seeing Steve get shot, the fear that almost overwhelmed him - it tells him that he still wants Steve in his life, even if it can only be for now, for however long it is until he goes back to Hawai’i. Even if it's only for now, he'll take it.

"Good morning," Steve says, barely more than a whisper. With nothing more than curtain-muted streetlight to see him by, Danny can still see the strain, the worry in his face. Super SEAL has never been very good at hiding his expressions, not from Danny.

"Despite it being-" Danny checks his phone and groans, "-5am, yeah," he says, moving a little closer, putting his hand to Steve's hip and biting his lip to find it still bare. "It is a good morning."

Steve smiles, relief crashing over his face like a wave hitting the beach. "I didn't know if you'd still..." He shrugs. "I wouldn't blame you."

"If I'd still, what?"

"Want me here."

Danny sighs, and smiles, and rolls onto his side, away from Steve. Steve doesn't move, and Danny reaches back to grab his wrist, pulls gently. "Get over here, big spoon."

Now he gets it. Without hesitating Steve is pressed against Danny's back, close as he can. With the height difference it's not an exact match but they meet at the hips, which Danny appreciates. Neither of them are hard, not yet, but there's hope. Steve drapes his arm over Danny's waist, and he likes it, he's always liked the heaviness, the strength of Steve's arms – liked it a lot. Over the last nine months he's had a lot of thoughts about Steve's arms - and his legs, his ass, his mouth. Even when he was still pissed at him, still raw and grieving the end of the thing they never even had, Steve always crept into his thoughts when he was jerking off; memories or fantasies of things they never got to do, but maybe they can do them now.

"I'm sorry," Steve says. His voice is muffled against Danny's hair, but the emotion in it is clear. They're not quite on the same page, it seems.

Danny just manages to catch the teasing response before it leaves his lips. This isn't the time. "For?"

"For not seeing what I had. With you. When Cath came back - I was so caught up in the ghost of what I wanted ten years ago that I didn't see what I had in front of me."

Danny thinks about that; thinks he knows just what that's like. Wishing he was in Jersey, the ill-advised reunion with Rachel that he'll never regret because it gave him Charlie. Yeah; he knows what it's like to be haunted.

"What did you want? Ten years ago, I mean."

"Danny-"

Danny kisses Steve's knuckles. "Tell me. Please."

There’s a long pause in the dark, filled only with the sound of their breathing. "I wanted a family. The whole traditional thing - white wedding, 2.5 kids, picket fences. I don't think I ever clearly planned how two Navy careers were going to fit in with that, but I'd find a way."

With a snort, Danny squeezes Steve's hand. "If anyone could, it'd be you."

"Yeah, well. I hadn't realised that wasn't what I wanted any more. I'd been so determined for so long, so focused on this end goal that I didn't see what I already had. How amazing it could've been if only I'd paid more attention. And then when you handed me your transfer papers, I - I went into SEAL mode, I guess. Shut down. Compartmentalised. Until you were actually leaving, at the airport, and I realised everything at once – that I was losing the best thing that ever happened to me."

"And then I punched you. Sorry about that, by the way."

"I deserved it."

"Yeah, you did. It was a nice way to bookend our relationship, I thought."

"That's a lousy apology."

"Hey, it's your apology, not mine."

"Yeah.” Steve huffs a laugh, and his breath is warm on the back of Danny’s neck. “Yeah, I guess it is. So: I'm sorry for not realising how much you meant to me. I'm sorry for flaunting Cath in front of you - even if you and me had just been friends-with-benefits that would still be pretty low. I'm sorry for being so cold to you in that last month. I'm sorry I never tried to contact you - I thought about it, jesus, Danny, I had my phone in my hand so many times. But i just couldn't do it."

"I told you, I wouldn't have answered," Danny says. "I've been so pissed at you. Until this last month or so - yeah, no way I would've answered."

Steve seems to consider that. "So you're not angry with me any more?"

"The fact that you're naked in my bed should tell you the answer to that one."

Steve snorts and kisses the back of Danny’s neck. "I wouldn't exactly put angry sex past you, Danny."

"Not this time," Danny says, and after a moment of consideration, slides Steve's hand down his chest, his belly, down to his cock. Steve laughs into his hair but wraps a hand around it, starts to slowly stroke him into hardness. Danny sighs, eyes fluttering shut, grinding his ass back against Steve and smiling when he moans.

Reaching a hand back, he pulls him into full hardness - not exactly difficult - and then shifts until Steve's cock is nestled between his thighs.

"Jesus," Steve gasps, and leans down to bite his earlobe. "God, that's- You-"

"Mmm-hmm," Danny says, and moves his hips until Steve gets the message and starts to thrust into that tight, warm space between his legs, his cock sliding against Danny's perineum and nudging his balls, making pleasure spark and stutter inside him. He pauses only to snag the hand cream from the bedside table - for actual skin care purposes, thank you, there's lube in the drawer but that's not what he wants right now. He wants it like this, slow and easy; he passes the cream back so Steve can slick up both their cocks and _fuck_ yes, that's better, smoother, easier.

"Feels so good, Danny," Steve rumbles in his ear, and that makes Danny whimper, having Steve so close, having him _here,_ not quite fucking him but it's close and it's so damn good.

They both come quickly, crying out into the too-early morning, shivering against each other and yes, fuck, this is everything Danny's ever wanted.

As they both catch their breath, Steve's arm tight around his waist, Danny finds he can't stop smiling even as he winds down from the post-coital high. He twists in Steve's arms and sees him smiling too, right before he kisses him. There are no complaints about awkwardness, about morning breath, about being covered in cooling come. There's just the kiss, there's _them_ , and Danny hasn't felt this happy in a very long time.

Eventually he pulls back to grab a towel, wipe them both off and roll back under the sheets.

"Sleep," he commands, rolling Steve onto his back and snuggling up to him.

"We'll be getting up soon."

"Another hour. Sleep, Steven."

And they do.

===

When Danny woke up again, Steve was already awake and frowning at the ceiling. After reassuring him that no, he wasn't having second thoughts about this - about whatever exactly _this_ is - he said that he was going to hang back today, make some phone calls, pull some strings.

If it meant Steve taking a day to recover from his injuries - being shot is no joke, even when wearing a vest - then Danny will take what he can get. Steve kissed him goodbye, too, and Danny might just have left his apartment with a spring in his step.

Rush hour traffic gave him a little too much time to think about all of the many, many ways in which this is never going to work, but always there's a tiny bit of hope that he can't quite quash that says maybe it can.

So he's still fighting a smile as he steps into the bullpen, right until he sees the set of Maddie's shoulders.

"Hey," he says softly as he approaches, and she startles, looking at him with wide eyes. "You want to talk?"

"I'm okay," she says, too quickly.

"Uh huh." Danny flicks through the papers that have appeared in his in-tray - so many reports to fill in, and he has a sneaking suspicion that he might end up writing Steve's, too. But that can wait. He turns back to Maddie, whose face is pinched, looking more exhausted than he's ever seen her; he suspects she might not have slept at all. "Why don't we go get a coffee?"

"I'm okay."

"Oh yeah? Well, _I_ need a coffee. And I need someone to talk to."

She gives him a look as though she knows he's doing this for her sake, like she's going to call him out for being patronising. But then she worries her lip and nods. "I guess I could do with the caffeine."

They go to the place on 85th again. It’s quiet, which Danny thinks they both need, and it's not a normal cop haunt. That means that they're away from any prying ears, and it also makes it more comfortable, less like a work environment. Hopefully that'll help Maddie relax and open up, help her talk if she needs to. She grabs the table while he joins the queue, and he checks his phone while he waits for the indecisive tourist at the front of the line come to the realisation that this is not a Starbucks. The screen is full of messages from Steve.

 _ **Steve**_ _(08:51)_  
_I got someone in Navy Intel to run a trace on Owens, hopefully they’ll come up with something we can't_

 _ **Steve**_ _(08:55)_  
_I also sent pics of the filed-off numbers on the guns you found at Viano’s place to Five-0, see if Chin can do anything with them_

 _ **Steve**_ _(08:55)_  
_I mean, this is a Five-0 case now too. It's still yours, but it's ours, too. I'm glad it gives us a chance to work together again_

 _ **Steve**_ _(08:55)_  
_I mean I know Maddie is your partner now but, still. It's nice to work with you again_

 _ **Steve**_ _(08:55)_  
_It's nice to do all kinds of things with you again_

 _ **Steve**_ _(08:56)_  
_Really nice. Maybe I should've led with that_

Danny laughs; as much as Steve is one of the most charismatic people he's ever met, his awkwardness comes out on occasion, and it’s kind of adorable.

_**Danny** _ _(09:21)_  
_Probably. I kinda got the idea that you enjoyed it though, the whole gasping my name in my ear kinda gave that away. I could do without seeing you get shot again though. I'd tell you to take the day but I know you won't_

The ellipsis appears on his screen telling him that Steve's typing as the line finally starts to move. Danny gets two coffees, two cinnamon rolls, and Danny throws his phone on the tray so that he can carry it over to the table.

Maddie gives him a tired smile, and just as she reaches for one of the coffees, Danny's phone flashes up with a message. It's upside down for him but Danny sees it, knows Maddie's seen it too even as he lunges to grab it and nearly knocks the coffees over.

 _ **Steve**_ _(09:22)_  
_You enjoyed it too, right? The moaning and the arching against me and that look in your eyes after I made you come makes me think so - fuck, I missed that look_

With his phone clutched to his chest like it's proof of his guilt - and really, it is - Danny looks down at Maddie with a stricken expression. But as she grins up at him, some of the tension in her shoulders eases, so maybe there's a silver lining.

"I'm, uh, sorry you had to see that," Danny says.

"I'm not," she says with a laugh, breaking a piece off her cinnamon roll. "Steve's okay, then?"

"Steve is very okay," Danny says, and she laughs again, shaking her head.

"I'm glad," she says. "Really glad. When I - when he-"

"I know, Maddie," Danny says. "Having someone risk their life for you - it's a big thing. But it's a thing that Steve does without a second thought. Without a first thought, for that matter."

"So would you," she says, quiet again, and Danny nods.

"Yeah. I would. If I'd've been standing where he was, I'd've done the exact same thing."

"I don't know if I would. I froze, Danny. I froze, and Steve could've-"

"He didn't. He's okay. You're okay. Those tac vests, they're pretty good, huh?"

"But-"

"Maddie. Stop. I know you've not really been in the line of fire like that before. And part of that is because you were a damn good cop – you’re great at keeping things calm, talking people down. I read the report about how you handled the Benitez case - you were _amazing_. Keeping your cool in situations like yesterday, it takes time."

"Steve did. You did."

"Steve was a SEAL; I was Steve's partner. Trust me, that keeps a lot of keeping cool."

She manages another smile, and slouches back in her seat, looking at him. "When I got home, Anna tried to talk to me about it. But I couldn't. She pushed, and I snapped at her, and-" She bites her lip. "I don't want to be that person, you know? I don't want to be the sort of cop that gets jaded and bitter and cruel. That hurts the people they love. But I don't want to feel so much like a rookie, either."

"Do I seem jaded and bitter and cruel?"

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head quickly, sitting up. "No, Danny, I didn't mean that, I-"

"Jaded, maybe," Danny says. "But the way through this, the way to deal with this - yeah, some people go that way. They arm themselves with meanness to deal with what this job throws at you. Everyone gets a bit of that sometimes, I gotta warn you. You'll get stressed, you'll snap, you'll regret it. But Anna knows what you're doing, knows how hard it is. She'll understand."

"I don't want her to have to."

"I know," Danny says, and spreads his hands wide. "But that's the nature of the job. Sometimes it gets hard, sometimes it gets brutal. Sometimes you're dealing with shit that no human being should have to see, to even think about. And you're going to react, and feel, and move forward."

"How?"

"Friends, loved ones. Good therapists. And partners," he says, reaching across the table to squeeze her wrist. "If you manage to get a good one, one you want to stick with, they're going to be one of the most important people in your life. In some ways, you end up closer to them than boyfriends, girlfriends - because they get that part of your life in a way you'd never want Anna to _have_ to understand. Other than the military, I don’t think there's nothing like that bond."

She nods. "That what happened with you and Steve?"

Danny's eyebrows raise. "Yes and no. Yes, we had that bond. Still do. We would do absolutely anything for each other, and apparently not even him breaking my heart has done anything to stop that. But the - the other stuff? I think that would have happened whether we were partners or not."

"Oh?" She smiles, her eyes twinkling. "Is this one of those 'in any world, we'd be together' things? Like, if you were a security guard and he was a free diver, or you were a gangster and he was a cop, or you were both secret agents-"

"You read too much fanfiction," Danny says flatly, and she giggles.

"I think it's true, though," she says, and he shrugs. Yeah. Yeah, maybe. He can't imagine living a life without Steve in it. "But in this reality, how about you tell me what exactly happened last night?"

"No. And thanks to Steve's lack of subtlety I think you pretty much got the gist of it."

"I get the idea that you had a lot of fun," she says, and waggles her eyebrows. Danny shakes his head.

"I don't kiss and tell."

She grins at that. "Apparently Steve does."

"Steve isn't exactly the most subtle man in the world, but I don't think he was expecting you to read that."

"So - what next?"

"I don't know," Danny says. And he doesn't. Because above everything else, there is a five thousand mile distance between them and he just doesn't know how to get past that. But for now - for now, Steve is here. If this is all they have, this week or however long Steve ends up staying, then this is what he'll take.

"I hope it works out, somehow," she says, and as naive as it is, so does Danny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fanfics Maddie talks about:
> 
> "you were a security guard and he was a free diver" refers to [Make this dock my home](http://archiveofourown.org/works/264783);  
> "you were a gangster and he was a cop" refers to [This Thing of Ours (It Needs a Better Name)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/163092);  
> and  
> "you were both secret agents-" refers to [Set Fire to This Card House](http://archiveofourown.org/works/166483/chapters/242420)
> 
> They're all amazing and I highly recommend them. Whether in this 'verse those fics are about other people, or whether the actual Five-0 has a fandom, well... You choose :D


	10. Chapter 10

It's a phone call from Grace that brings Danny crashing back to earth.

She calls during her lunch break, after Danny and Maddie get back from investigating the warehouse. It'd already been turned over by the crime techs, but Danny wanted to see it and thought it might give Maddie a chance to face her fears. He thinks it worked; she seems calmer when they get back to the office, her shoulders less tense, her eyes less shadowed.

When Grace phones, he touches Maddie's arm on the way to the break room to take the call, hoping that Grace's words will soothe him, too.

But she's not just calling for a quick hello, as she sometimes does, though it's more often a text these days. As soon as he answers he knows something's wrong - her words come quickly, erupting from her and tripping over each other in their hurry to get out.

She tells him how much she misses her friends back in Hawai'i, how badly; how much it hurts to hear about them surfing, hiking, going to beach parties, knowing she can't be with them. He knows stays in touch with them - her cell phone bill attests to that - but it's not the same, she says, and she's right. The distance is like a wall between them, and it's bittersweet to be able to talk to them like this but be unable to go round to their house and hang out whenever she wants. It puts a different kind of distance between them, and as she struggles to put that into words, Danny realises with a sinking feeling that he knows exactly what she means. It's a special kind of loneliness that he first felt when he left his life in Jersey behind when he moved to Hawai'i. Knowing that everything's going on as it always has, without you. The knowledge that even if you did go back, everything's already changed, the place that was once yours already filled in and grown over, erasing every trace of you. Even if you go back, things will never be the same, you'll never belong like you once did.

He tells her that he feels that way too - she's not alone in this. He knows how she feels and he's here for her, always. He hates that this is all he can do - that he can't fix it, can't promise they can move back, can't give her what she needs to be happy.

She sounds better but still sad at the end of the call, and he looks down at his phone, unseeing, when she's hung up. As well as the familiar feeling of being a bad father whenever he can't give Grace everything she wants, there's also the feeling of reality thudding down onto his shoulders, smothering the spark of hope from last night, this morning.

Five thousand miles - it's a hell of a long way. Along with the time difference and how hard it is to be in a relationship with a cop - when you add it all up, this thing with Steve?

It's not going to work.

It just- It can't.

Not in the long run, anyway. They can have fun while Steve's here but after that- It's just too much. Too far.

Besides, Steve has always had dozens of admirers right there in Honolulu; he can find someone a hell of a lot closer than Danny. Someone _easier_ , because god knows that doesn't describe Danny. And that's something else Steve deserves, something Danny wants him to have. Someone who is good for him, who's kind and compassionate, who'll look after him. Not someone who's going to bitch him out at every opportunity, who'll get sucked back into that black hole of negative energy and drag him down too. Steve deserves better, the best, and Danny isn't it.

He's not sure how long he's been there, staring at the burn mark on the linoleum, feeling his heart turn to lead, heavy and toxic, when Maddie pops her head around the break room door.

"Hey," she says, coming in. Looking closely at him - and god knows what she sees - she adds, "Is everything okay?"

"Sure," Danny says, standing and giving her a brittle smile he knows she won't believe for a second. "Sorry I abandoned you there."

She pauses, not buying his answer, but lets it go. "No worries. When Grace calls, you answer, I get it. But I wanted to let you know that Steve's here."

Of course he is, Danny thinks bitterly. Why should the universe give him any time to come to terms with his latest depressing realisation, any time to shore up his defences? He nods and stands a little straighter, feeling like he's stepping out into battle and feeling ridiculous with it.

He follows Maddie out into the bullpen where Steve's waiting, leaning against Danny's desk with his arms folded. He looks lanky and gorgeous; he looks like future heartbreak.

"Hey," Steve says with a warm smile, and Danny nods in greeting. "How's it been going?"

Danny's lips twist, and he looks away. "It's not."

"We've been over to the warehouse but there wasn't anything to see," Maddie says. "We've got the warrant for Owens's home, though." She waves the folded paper that must have been delivered while Danny was talking to Grace.

"Alright then, what are we waiting for?" Danny asks, ignoring their looks of surprise at his eagerness. What, a guy can't want to get on with his work, and maybe distract himself at the same time?

They drive up to Owens's house up in the Bronx. It's a slim and slightly shabby townhouse; the rail alongside the stoop is rusty, the windows need washing. It's a decent neighbourhood, with kids out in the street wrapped up warm and looking like Pilsbury dough boys chasing each other and giggling. Across the road there's a b-ball game happening, ice and subzero temperatures be damned, and it feels a lot like the neighbourhood Danny grew up in. Which means it _doesn't_ feel like somewhere a high-ranking gang member would lay down roots.

"Interesting neighbourhood," Maddie says, meeting his eyes; she feels the same way he does. Steve is frowning - he doesn't know the city, not like they do, but Danny knows _him_ well enough to guess that his spidey senses are tingling.

"Let's check out the house," Steve says and strides up the steps two at a time. He knocks hard, and the door is opened by a small woman with blonde curls who looks at them with wide brown eyes.

"Hello?"

"We're with the NYPD," Danny says from Steve's side, showing her his badge. "Is Peter Owens in?"

"N-no. I'm his wife, Maeve. Pete is out of the city on business. In Chicago. He'll be back tomorrow morning." Her eyes flick between the three of them. "Can I ask what this is about?"

"We've for a warrant to search the property," Maddie says, handing over the paper. The woman stares at it, then looks up at them again, mouth opening and closing, like she wants to say something but doesn't know what. After a few seconds, she steps aside to let them in. Maddie stays with her to explain what's going on, while Danny and Steve head inside. The living room is through the door on the right, and it's as homey and rundown as the outside of the house. They open cupboards, look through piles of papers, but this might the least suspicious house Danny has ever seen. That might all be part of a facade to throw off trouble, but his gut tells him they're in the wrong place.

"Maeve says the home office is through here," Maddie says, walking through the living room and opening a door to what's little more than a large closet. On the desk there's an ancient CRT monitor and a docking station for a laptop. The computer itself is missing - no doubt in Chicago with its owner. There are a few flash drives scattered about, and Danny asks Maddie to bag them as evidence.

"You think there's something on them?"

"No," Danny says. "I don't. But we have to check."

"There's something not right here," Steve says, looking around with a frown. "Something we're missing."

"There's lots of things we're missing," Danny says, flicking through a magazine rack filled with paper and finding only very normal-looking utility bills. "I say we look at the rest of the house, just in case, then sit on the place until he gets back."

Steve nods. "Agreed. You and me can wait in the car - it'll be a long shift but we've gone longer-"

"Whoa, no. You’ll do nothing of the sort," Danny says, turning to face him. He puts a hand on Steve's stomach and tries not to gloat when he winces. "You're still healing - you're not sitting out here all night. My buddy Martinez owes me a favour - I'll get him and his partner to do the first shift. Besides, if Owens is only supposed to be getting in tomorrow morning we're better off getting some sleep and being fresh. Maddie, could you get the flight details from Mrs Owens?"

"On it," she says with a nod.

When they have the info, Danny rings Martinez and calls in his favour.

"On Friday night, Williams, really?" He sounds amused rather than put out.

"You say that like you had plans anyway," Danny says, and Martinez snorts.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, you got it. But we're even now, okay? You're a dangerous man to owe favours to."

"Totally even," Danny agrees.

When Martinez turns up Danny feels like he should be grateful since it means he can go home. But while they were working on the case he could fill his head with that, concentrate on evidence and hunches. Home means dealing with all the shit that's clogging up his head. It means facing up to things he's not ready for, owning up to knowing that things aren't going to work.

"Do you want me to meet you at Owens's house tomorrow?" Maddie asks when they drop her off at home.

"Yeah - come in your own car, it's less – ah, eye-catching - than the Camaro."

"You can say that again," she snorts. "And hey, maybe Owens'll roll quickly and we can actually have most of the weekend to ourselves."

"Oh yeah?" He looks over his shoulder at her. "So I'm doing all the paperwork in this little fantasy of yours, huh?"

"Always," she says, with a wink, and squeezes his shoulder before getting out of the car.

Danny watches her until she's inside but Steve still doesn't set off, so Danny turns to look at him. It's just after six and the streetlights are on, bathing them in yellow light. On most people it would be hideously unflattering but Steve looks so good. He always looks so good. Danny has to swallow and try to ignore the effect Steve has on him.

"Everything okay, Danny?" Steve asks, and Danny nods.

"I'm just - I just wanna get this case done with, you know? It feels like we're close."

"You think Owens is the one were after?"

Danny pauses. As much as he's uncomfortable being alone with Steve like this when a thousand doubts are tugging at him, the case is a safe subject. "After seeing that house? I'm not sure. Something's bugging me."

"Me too. I know that looks can be deceiving but it just doesn't seem like the house of a drug lord. It feels wrong."

"But we know he stole the money from Pollit and paid off Viano. There's something we're missing."

Steve taps the steering wheel with a long finger then sighs. "We'll just have to wait," he says, like it pains him to do so, and it probably does; of all the things that define Steve McGarrett, patience has never been one of them.

"We'll find out more tomorrow," Danny suggests, and Steve's still frowning but he nods and starts the engine.

They talk on the way back to the apartment but Danny's mind is elsewhere, thinking in circles about how this isn't going to work, over what he's going to say, again and again until he wants to scream with it.

When they finally get home he takes off his coat and kicks off his shoes before heading straight to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. Popping it open he turns to see Steve, leaning against the wall that divides the kitchen and the living room watching him. Danny hands the beer over, gets himself another.

“Hey,” Danny says, taking a swig of beer; it does little to ease his dry mouth or the pounding of his heart.

“Hey,” Steve says, and takes a drink of his own beer. "So. Are we going to talk?"

"Talk?" Danny says, stalling for time. 

Has he been that obvious? Because yes, they should, there is so much shit they need to talk about, but after the realisation this afternoon it seems pointless, like putting themselves through pain for no reason. If they're only going to have this for a few weeks then fuck seriousness and responsibility. For once, maybe he can let himself just _enjoy_ something without worrying about every single thing that might go wrong.

“Actually, no,” Danny says, and looks aside at the post piled on the counter so that he doesn't have to look at Steve. “Since we _maybe_ have a week or two before you go home, I figure there’s no point in torturing ourselves with that, right?”

"Danny Williams, not wanting to talk? That's a first," Steve says, and if his words are light, his tone isn't. Danny knows he's being a coward, but this is best for both of them. It _is._

"Funny, Steven."

"I thought you were going to get all serious on me."

“Nah. Considering this is just a temporary thing, I figured we could just have some fun.”

Steve doesn't answer straight away, and Danny's gaze is drawn to him. His expression is serious, his jaw tight; a few thudding seconds stretch out but then he smiles, crooked and too easy. It's not fooling Danny, but he wants to be fooled so he lets it slide.

"Fun," Steve repeats, stepping closer, getting into Danny's personal space and putting a hand on his hip, tracing the shape of his hipbone with his thumb. Such a simple touch, but so fucking hot, and now Danny's pulse is racing for a whole other reason. "Got anything in mind?”

“I figured we could start with making out on the sofa like teenagers,” Danny says with a grin as faked as Steve's. “Take it from there, see how it goes.”

“Sounds good to me,” Steve says, taking the beer out of Danny's hands and then dragging him over to the sofa, pushing him onto his back, and Danny laughs, grinning up at him. The blood is already thumping in his veins like a drumbeat, drowning out everything else.

“Who said you get to be on top?”

Something flashes in Steve’s eyes – and yeah, okay, Danny did not mean it in that way, but. _But_.

Steve climbs on top of him with the slightest hiss of pain, followed by an assurance that yes, he's fine, he’s fine. And then he's kissing Danny like their lives depend on it, dizzying, and that along with the weight of him, the way that his cock is growing hard against Danny's hip - there's not a single other thing in the world that matters.

Danny groans, sliding his hands down to squeeze Steve's ass, making him growl and rut against Danny; shifting position so that their cocks are lined up and _yes_ , now that's something else, that's amazing.

Danny concentrates on that and nothing else, doing his damnedest to ignore the doubts that are still muttering incessantly at the back of his mind. Just concentrating on the physical - and the physical is _good_. It's good but he needs more, and scrabbles at Steve's fly, reaching into cargoes and briefs to pull out his cock, grinning at the noise Steve makes, somewhere between a gasp and a whine.

"I love this," Danny murmurs into his mouth, flicking his tongue inside. "Making you squirm like this. Feeling how hot and hard you are under my fingers."

"Me too," Steve groans, kissing him again, thrusting into Danny's hand. Then he pushes up slightly to unbuckle Danny's belt, undo his trousers, then grin at him as he runs a hand over Danny's cock, still trapped and aching. "It's been too long since I had you like this, Danny. But I've thought about it."

Danny swallows, meets his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. When I was bringing myself off - I never meant to think of you but there you were - your body under my hands, your voice in my ear. I've come so many times remembering what it was like to have your cock in my mouth."

"Jesus christ, Steve," Danny says, and moans louder when Steve stops teasing and wraps his fingers around his cock, pulling it out into the warm air between their bodies and stroking with those long fingers of his. And he's still talking, his words making Danny fall apart as much as the touch. He's trying to reciprocate but he can't keep a good rhythm, too distracted by everything else.

"And I thought about stuff we didn't do, too - about fucking you. About you fucking me. How good your cock would feel inside me, Danny."

"Fuck," Danny says, and he's breathing hard, gasping, images of it pinwheeling through his mind.

"C'mere, let me," Steve says, batting Danny's hand away and taking both their cocks in his hand. Danny should probably say something about Steve and his control issues but he just swears, loudly, at how incredible it feels to have the length of Steve's cock pressed against his own, his strong fingers wrapped around them.

"God, babe, that's-" He whimpers, arching up into Steve's touch. "That's good, that's so good, I-"

"You gonna come for me, D?" Steve's voice is rough and deep, and god, _god_ -

"Yes, I - keep talking, tell me what else you thought about."

"About you? I thought about everything, Danny. About how I'd fuck you on my beach-"

"No, no, no - the _sand,_ Steven-"

Steve laughs and kisses Danny's neck, speeds up his hand a little. "Yeah, you said that in my fantasy, too, funny how well I know you, huh?"

"You do," Danny gasps and grabs Steve's shoulders. "You'd let me fuck you? You'd like that?"

"Hell yes - having you inside me - I don't - I've only done that once before but you - I want you every way I can have you, Danny." Steve's breath is coming quickly now, and he kisses Danny, not coordinated but eager, and Danny responds just as eagerly. "I need you to come for me, Danny, I need to be the one to make you come."

"Yes," is all Danny can manage in response, he’s so close, Steve's hand so good, his cock so hot, and knowing that Steve's thought of him, always thought of him, it makes him warm and makes his heart twist and he wants, he _wants-_

And he's coming with a choked off cry, climax surging through his body. He feels Steve tense up as he comes too with a long, low groan in Danny's ear. He collapses on top of him, breathing hard; Danny wraps his arms around him tightly, needing him close.

For long moments he lies there, not thinking for once, just letting himself soak in the afterglow, enjoying Steve's warmth and weight.

And it feels right, dammit. It feels like this is where he belongs. Where _they_ belong. It doesn't change anything, doesn't change a single one of those five thousand miles but still. It's - it's something.

His hand slides up Steve's back to his neck, fingers trailing through his hair; Steve's hands come to Danny's shoulders and he kisses his throat, his jawline, before settling his head on Danny's shoulder, face against his neck. They lie there a while longer in comfortable silence and then Steve lifts his head to grin down at Danny, kiss him softly.

" I've still got it, huh?"

"Still got what, an ego the size of a space station? Yep, babe, you still got it."

Steve laughs fondly and kisses Danny again, taking his time with it, slow and lazy. Eventually he pulls back and smiles at Danny before looking down between their bodies. They're a mess, both their shirts smeared with come.

"We need a shower and a change of clothes," Steve says, and Danny is happy to acquiesce. They share the shower, kissing and touching, washing each other, the lingering afterglow still drowning out the negative thoughts that are lurking, waiting. When they get out Danny loans Steve a pair of NYPD sweats and a blue tee since he didn't bring much in the way of clothes with him, and puts their clothes in the laundry to deal with tomorrow.

"Is this mine?" Steve asks, looking at the tee, fussing with a hole in the sleeve, and oh. Yeah. Danny thinks it might be. He can't remember which of the many times Steve got shot that it's from but he remembers washing it for him - and yelling at him about it. At some point it was left at his house and apparently came to New York with him.

"Might be," Danny says with a nonchalant shrug. "We both got shot so many times, who knows? And that arm was always a bullet magnet for me. Good job I'm right-handed, huh?"

Steve frowns and comes over to Danny, lifting the sleeve of the t-shirt he's wearing and looking at the mess of scar tissue from three separate bullets. He runs his thumb over it and Danny swallows, panic suddenly ratcheting up. Why that tiny little gesture makes all of his anxieties come slamming back to the fore he has no idea, but there they are, running away with him.

He steps back and turns away. "I think I've got some burgers in the freezer, I made them with Grace and Charlie a few weeks ago, that sound good to you? With some roast veggies?"

"...Sure," Steve says.

Danny winces, knowing he's being an asshole but not sure how to deal with this without succumbing to a massive freak out.

They eat and watch TV, then Danny absolutely trounces Steve at Call of Duty, much to his amusement and Steve's surprise.

"Rematch," Steve says, wagging his finger at Danny. "What was just beginners luck."

"Beginners luck? I'm not a beginner, babe. I'm just better than you." Steve gives him a _look_ and Danny grins. "But if you want your ass kicking again..."

Danny wins two out of three and if Steve had his way they'd keep going until the tide turned. He has to take the controller out of Steve's hands and turn off the PlayStation.

"Bedtime," Danny tells him. "We have to be in the Bronx for 8am."

Steve pauses and frowns at the floor. "Yeah. Should I - take Charlie's room again?" He looks so _uncertain_ , a look that doesn't belong on his face, and Danny feels like a complete asshole for putting it there.

"No, you goof," he says, grabbing Steve's hand and pulling him towards his bedroom. "You think I'm gonna pass up on having my own personal bed warmer?"

Steve grins and kisses Danny's temple before throwing himself onto the bed and stretching out his arms and legs. Even though it's a king size he still manages to take up most of it.

"But Danno, there's no room for you."

Danny tuts and tries to move Steve out of the way, but only succeeds in getting Steve wrapped around him like an affectionate octopus.

"Seriously, Steven?"

"Seriously, Danny," Steve says, and he _sounds_ serious, like he's talking about something very different than goofing off, and Danny isn’t ready to deal with that. With a huff he disentangles them enough to lie down and sets his alarm. He reaches to turn off the lamp but notices the way Steve's looking at him, those damned puppy dog eyes, and leans in to kiss him.

"Thank you," he says. "I needed that. Tonight."

"Any time," Steve says, reaching over to turn of the lamp and then pulling Danny into his arms. "'Night, Danno."

"'Night, Steve."

Thoughts race through Danny's head for at least an hour, keeping him awake; but when he hears Steve's breathing even out, Danny looks at his sleeping face in the dark room, and that alone outweighs those five thousand reasons this is a bad idea.

Sighing, Danny kisses Steve's shoulder and closes his eyes.

Just for once, can't things be easy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I wrote myself into at least two different corners with the last chapter so it's taken a while to try and sort that out. I'm not sure I've succeeded tbh but it was post now or worry over it forevermore. 
> 
> Thing one: (Warning for blood and gifs) [the blue t-shirt.](http://raininginadelaide.tumblr.com/post/146462330655/itsfiveoh-danny-wearing-the-same-shirt-steve)
> 
> Thing two: [I bought a thing (two things!) because of this fic (and also because I have no self-control)](http://raininginadelaide.tumblr.com/post/153616096705/so-uh-primark-had-a-sale-on-and-i-have-no-self)
> 
> Thing three: I love self-destructive Danny a lot. Bb, pls, get out of your own way and let yourself be happy.


	11. Chapter 11

Danny's sitting alone in the Camaro, trying his best to push away the first stirrings of a panic attack.

He asked Steve to sit with Maddie in her Taurus, with the rationale that his car was already too out of place in this neighbourhood; two people lurking in it would make it even more suspicious. 

The truth is that he can't get his head in gear with Steve sitting by his side. Even now, with him down the street, Danny's thoughts are still circling Steve like hungry vultures.

Yesterday he felt so certain that it couldn't work between them, but then with the sex, and how good it felt to wake up by his side - Danny doesn't know what to feel. He know he _wants_ Steve, wants him so much it hurts. And he - okay, he loves Steve, is in love with him, head over heels, desperately so, embarrassingly so.

But.

That's all the more reason to stop, right? That they stop this now before he falls even deeper, before he scares Steve off, before Steve breaks his heart again, before they both realise this thing is going to go hideously wrong-

And so the thoughts go round and round in his head, like a maddening carousel.

He tried the radio as a method of distraction for a while, then texting Grace; he even tried reading Buzzfeed articles on his phone, but nothing helps. Five entries into _17 Reasons Dogs Are Way Better Than Cats_ and his thoughts swing back to Steve, ricocheting between desperate hope and despair so fast he’s pretty sure he’s going to get emotional whiplash. 

By the time Owens pulls up in a taxi, Danny could cry with relief - anything to get himself out of his own head.

He waits until the taxi pulls away then gets out of the car, around the same time that Maddie and Steve do.

"NYPD," Danny calls, flashing his badge with his hand on his gun. "Peter Owens, stay exactly where you are."

Owens is a man on the wrong side of middle age, with a prominent widows peak and a stout belly. He turns to look at Danny, but he doesn’t seem surprised by his presence – his wife clearly called him, not that it was unexpected. Owens stares at the three of them as they approach and for a moment Danny thinks he's going to run. But he lets out a sigh that sounds a lot like relief, his shoulders rounding, and he puts up his hands.

"You need to come back to the station with us," Danny says, and Owens nods.

"Yes. I'll come."

Owens's front door opens and his wife runs down the steps in a fluffy dressing gown and a distraught expression, grabbing her husband's hands. "Pete, Pete what's happening?"

"It’s fine, sweetie, I told you last night," he says, smiling at her. "I know what this is about. I - I need to fix this."

"Fix _what?_ "

Owens's eyes flash over at Danny before looking back at her and clearing his throat. "Maeve, baby - let me go with these police officers and sort this out, okay? Go stay with your sister."

"But - Pete-"

"Don't argue with me," he says, his voice firmer now. "Go to Lucy's. I'll call you when I can."

She shakes her head, more from confusion than disagreement, and then nods. She steps back and her hands curl into fists as she turns to Danny with fierceness in her doe eyes.

"My husband is a good man," she tells Danny, something he’s heard a dozen times before; it’s like she's reading from a clichéd script.

"I'll talk to you soon, Maeve," Owens says again as Danny puts a hand to his shoulder and pushes him gently towards the Camaro. Steve moves, too, and Danny says, an instinctive, panicked reaction,

"You should ride with Maddie."

Steve stares at him. "I'm not letting you ride alone with a suspect."

Which is a very sensible response, yes. More than once they've seen cops injured or worse because they did exactly that. If Danny was thinking clearly he'd never even have suggested it, which says a lot about his state of mind.

"Yeah. You're right," Danny says, concentrating on opening the car door and guiding Owens into the back seat, then throws the keys at Steve before looking away quickly – just that one glance was enough to set his seesawing thoughts off again. Turning to Maddie, who's watched the whole thing with confusion on her face, he says, "Maddie - meet you back at the precinct?"

"Sure," she says, and gives him a quizzical look before heading over to her own car.

Danny looks down at the Camaro and has to take a deep breath before getting in. He needs to get his shit together, seriously.

The drive to the precinct is quiet. It’s strange to be in the car with Steve and not talk, but at least the presence of Owens is a good excuse – Danny can blame his silence on that instead of his own current status as a hot mess. Steve does keep looking at him though; Danny sees it out of the corner of his eye, and shit, _shit_ , they really do need to talk, don’t they? The realisation isn’t a pleasant one, but it _is_ a decision, and it settles Danny’s mind enough that he thinks he can last the rest of the day without a meltdown. 

Maddie tails them the whole way to the precinct and pulls up behind Danny. Together they head to the third floor, where the interrogation rooms are. There are three of them, all dingy, all of them liable to make Danny feel vaguely claustrophobic but nothing he can’t deal with. That’s the point in them, after all – to make the suspects uncomfortable. If they do the same to some cops, well, that’s just too bad. They go to the furthest one; Steve puts his hand to Owens’s back, leading him inside, and Owens goes without a word. 

"You and Steve take point; I'll watch," Maddie says and goes into the observation room before Danny can say anything.

He blinks after her, then follows Steve into the interrogation room.

It's a ten-by-ten box with cinder block walls covered badly in thick grey paint, a barred window on one wall, the two-way mirror on another. Owens goes to sit at the table silently, head bowed, staring down at his hands.

Danny watches him for a moment, then glances at Steve. It feels strange to be here with him, somehow stranger even than during the investigation. Maybe because these moments were so often just the two of them against the suspects – it’s a strangely intimate dance, and despite how different it is here to Five-0's rendition room, the feeling, the atmosphere is the same.

When Steve meets his eyes, his expression is enough for Danny to thrust his doubts aside. They’re working – the other stuff can come later. Steve will take the lead; Danny will follow. It’s their usual set-up and Danny is glad of the familiarity of it. He nods slightly, and sees acknowledgement in Steve’s eyes. Their plan made with little more than a look, just like the old days, Steve walks over to Owens and puts his hands on his hips, looking down at him.

"We know about the money," Steve says, and Owens blinks rapidly before looking away again. He looks pale, almost waxy under the lights of the interrogation room.

"I knew," he says, voice wavering. "I knew someone would find out. It was - borrowed time. It was stupid. I only did it so he wouldn't tell you about everything else but now you know about everything else _and_ the money and-" He stops to take a shaky breath, loud in the quiet room.

"How about you start from the beginning?" Danny says, keeping his voice soothing and calm. Owens nods, runs a hand through his thinning hair.

"It was - about four months ago. I got his email - I ignored it at first. It was talking about Pollit. How it-" He looks between Steve and Danny and swallows before looking back down at his hands. "It was owned by criminals. Ran by criminals - gangs! I didn't believe it at first. I've worked there for two years and there's never been anything that I've seen. I mean, I know that now – but I guess you know about the 718 Crew."

"We do," Danny says. "I'm pretty familiar with them - arrested some of 'em."

"Not enough," Owens says morosely and scrubs a hand over his face. "So - I get another message a week later, and this time I – I do some investigating. And god – he’s right! The bosses – they’re all crooked, and this guy, this email says he's going to tell the police that I'm involved with everything if I don't do what he says."

"Which is?" Steve asks, his voice neutral but his face intense, and looking into it makes Owens swallow.

"He told me to transfer money from Pollit's account to my own, this one I have in Switzerland, then to this other account. It was a lot of money but I thought - if it's stealing from drug dealers and - and _murderers_ then it's kind of okay, right?"

"And it you're giving the money to other drug dealers? Is that okay?" Danny asks. Owens is the very picture of misery as he nods.

"I just – I didn’t- No, of course not. I know – I thought that too. But he said it would be just this one thing. And it _has_ been. I've not been asked to do anything since. But - it would have ruined me if anyone found out! My career, Maeve, and the house, I'd lose everything, I _had_ to do it!"

"You think you're not about to lose all those things now?" Steve asks, and Owens rests his head in his hands.

"I was so stupid," he moans. “It haunts me. I keep thinking – where did that money go? What sort of awful things is it funding – what did I help to happen? And all the work I’ve done for Pollit – I’ve made them millions! Whatever they’ve done with that money, it’s on my hands!” He looks down at those hands in horror, like he can see the blood – it’s all very Lady Macbeth, Danny thinks wryly. “Do you – do you think you could have a word with the DA?” Owens asks, looking between Steve and Danny, then laughs – a sound so empty it should echo. “I’ve only ever seen this stuff on TV. Does it even works that way in real life – do you think they might give me a deal? I know I’ve messed so many things up but if I help fix them…” 

He trails off, and Steve and Danny share another look; that slight lift of Steve’s eyebrows tells Danny this is his decision – it’s his home field. 

"I can't make any promises, but I can get someone in from the DA’s office to speak to you,” Danny says, walking forward to stand in front of Owens. “What do you have? Emails, letters?"

"Emails," Owens says. "I saved them all. And there are letters back at the house - I hid them so Maeve wouldn’t worry."

"That's a good start," Danny says, and glances at the mirror where he knows Maddie is watching. "As a show of good faith, why don’t you show us the emails? We'll get a laptop so that you can log in."

Owens nods with a little more life, straightening up. He’s looking serious now, determined, and Danny wonders if for once they've found someone who genuinely does regret their wrongdoing and wants to make right.

As expected, Maddie shows up a minute later with a laptop in hand and gives it to Owens.

She stands behind him as he goes to his email, and he points out the relevant ones. She nods, and takes the laptop back.

"There’s not much in the emails but maybe we can get something from the IP address. I'll get it down to forensics. I've already called ADA Nolan, he'll be here soon," she tells Danny and Steve, who nod.

"You're lucky," Danny tells Owens. "Nolan is a soft touch."

Owens doesn't need to know that's just Danny's little joke; Nolan is one of the biggest sticklers for the rules in New York. He’s great with witnesses, though; good at coaxing information from them, making them feel safe so they spill their guts.

True to form, Danny and Steve have barely gotten back to the bullpen by the time Nolan is striding in, wearing a suit and a silk navy trenchcoat despite it being the weekend. He nods in greeting at Danny and regards Steve curiously.

"You must be Commander McGarrett," he says. "I've heard a lot about you - your presence here has caused quite the commotion."

"Sometimes commotion is necessary," Steve says, looking directly into Nolan's eyes. It's an intimidation tactic that's not going to work - Nolan has been in the district attorney's office for ten years and has stood up against some of the best, most ruthless defence lawyers in the world, looked into the eyes of some of the worst criminals New York can spit out; Steve's steely Navy SEAL stare isn’t going to phase him. Even his formidable height isn't helping; Nolan has five inches on Steve.

"Sometimes," Nolan replies, shrugging. "Whether that's the case this time remains to be seen." He turns to Danny. "What've we got, Detective?"

Danny fills him in on the situation, ending with, "My gut tells me he's being honest. He's an idiot, and he did what he did because he was scared. And I mean - I've seen _The Usual Suspects_ too, you know? But I feel like he's telling the truth."

"I agree," Steve says. "It's frustrating that our lead might not take us anywhere but I think Owens is a patsy, just like he seems."

Nolan thinks for a moment, then nods. "I want to talk to him," he says, and sweeps away without waiting for a response. He goes into the interrogation room and shuts the door behind him. The message is clear – he wants to talk to Owens without Steve or Danny there, so they go into the observation room and watch through the two-way mirror. 

Owens repeats everything he said to them - not word for word, not like he's rehearsed it, but the facts are all there. That alone makes it less likely that he's lying, but Danny's not fool enough to completely discount the fact that Owens might just be very, very good.

Speaking of being a fool, though, standing next to Steve is making him feel like one. After the last half hour of finally feeling like he’s got his act together, his shoulder brushing against Steve’s bicep is enough to shatter any illusion of self-control. His mind keeps wandering, his awareness zeroing in on that tiny bit of contact between them.

Eventually Danny excuses himself to go check on Maddie, as if she needs it.

He finds her halfway back from forensics, and she gives him another look.

"Are you okay?" She asks, and he gives an annoyed shrug.

"I don't - no. This case is bugging me."

"The case?" She asks, an impressive amount of doubt seeping into those two syllables.

"It’s not-" He pauses, then sighs. "It's just hard, okay? The thing with Steve. Trying to figure it out when there's so much against us, so many reasons it won't work."

"What about all the reasons it will?" She asks, squeezing his arm, then steps into the observation room before he can respond.

When he follows her, he finds that he’s glad of her presence. Having someone else in the room stops him feeling so off balance, and he’s able to listen to Nolan, admiring the way that he deals with Owens. By the end of it, Owens has agreed to share everything, as long as he can get a reduced sentence. 

When Nolan comes into the observation room, he hasn’t promised anything; indeed, he’s frowning. 

“I need to speak to the DA before I can promise leniency,” he says. “He’s taking a hard line on the war on drugs, and this is all wrapped up in that.”

“Fine. So call him,” Steve says, but Nolan shakes his head. 

“He’s at a cabin upstate. No landline and no cell service.”

Steve stares at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Even the district attorney deserves downtime, Commander,” Nolan says with a shrug, unbothered by Steve’s tone. “He’ll be back on Monday – be grateful, it means you can actually have Sunday as a day of rest.”

A whole day with Steve and no work to distract him. A perfect time for them to have that talk. 

_Great,_ Danny thinks, his heart sinking. _Just great._


	12. Chapter 12

When they get back to the apartment Danny is still in minor panic mode.

He has no idea what to do or say, no idea what the right course is - no idea what he even wants.

Apart from the fact that he does, of course he does, but he can't _have_ what he wants.

He licks his lips, watches Steve put the kettle on and riffle through the impressive selection of teas that Grace has built up, bringing a handful of different teabags over from Rachel's place most weeks. He chooses a fruity one then looks over at Danny.

"Want some tea, Danno?"

"No. No thanks," Danny says, then watches Steve pour the tea, wrapping the string and tag around the handle while it brews. Even that little detail makes Danny’s heart ache, and he can’t do this, he fucking can’t. He needs some time to himself to get his shit together, build his walls back up, tall and strong. Staring at the mug, he says, "I, uh. You know, I was thinking. About tomorrow. I know we have to wait on the DA to see if he's willing to make a deal with Owens, but I might still go in. Take another look through the papers. You can stay here-"

"Really?" Steve asks and the bitterness in his voice is like a stake to the heart. When he lifts his head, Danny sees it echoed in his eyes. "You want to avoid me that much?"

Danny opens his mouth, intending to make excuses about being in the middle of a case, but no. Steve deserves better than that. "I don't want to avoid you-"

"Really, Danny?" Steve folds his arms. "How big of an idiot do you think I am?"

"You want me to answer that, Steven? Look - I don't want to avoid you. I don't. I meant what I said. These next few days, weeks, while you're here in New York - I want to enjoy them." Steve is still glaring and Danny can feel the emotion crackling between them like a static charge. This has been building up all week - longer, all those months they've been apart - and maybe it's not a good idea to do this right now. Still, he barrels on, not feeling entirely in control of his own mouth. "But when you go home, that's _so fucking far_. Five thousand miles, plus the time difference, the fact that we work long hours-"

"Excuses, Danny!" Steve takes a step toward him, genuinely angry, and that's not something that's often directed at him. Danny glares, not backing down - he's being _reasonable_ , sensible even. He does not deserve this response. "Those are all excuses! I know you, you always find the negative in everything. You're already imagining about how I'm going to break your heart-

"I don't need to imagine it! You already did it!"

Steve stares at him, open-mouthed, and takes a step back like Danny's slapped him. "I don't-"

"You remember being with Cath at Kono's wedding? Because I do. We'd already decided that we were going to go together. Not as anything official, sure, but still. I thought it was going to be nice - you, me and Grace. And then Cath comes back and I'm immediately shunted to the side and forgotten about."

"I didn't - I danced with you-"

"As a fucking joke, Steve! Which, incidentally, is what I felt like. And it wasn’t just that, was it? All those times you blew me off to be with her. When we'd planned on watching the game, or going surfing, or just hanging out and fooling around. But nope - you've got Cath back so you fob me off with lame excuses that I was stupid enough to fall for. And I - it's not like I thought I had a chance, Steve. I mean - god, look at her. And the history you two have. I got it; I still do. But I just - I wish you'd just said something straight up, man. I'm being a coward now, yeah. I am. But you were back then. Figuring her for a sure thing but letting me keep the bench warm just in case-"

"It wasn't like that!" Steve looks genuinely horrified, enough to pause Danny in his tracks. "I told you what I was thinking-"

"And now I'm telling you what I was thinking, alright? Watching the two of you at the wedding. The way you kissed her goodbye on the porch in the mornings when I picked you up for work, like you were going out of your way to remind me that she'd spent the night. How I barely saw you the whole time she was back. All of that, Steve. All of that told me something you were too much of a coward to tell me yourself. And I get it, sure, you told me what was going through your head. I even understand it. But that doesn't mean you didn't break my fucking heart."

"Danny," Steve says, and he sounds broken now, enough that Danny just wants to - to hide, or to run, anything to not face what he's started. He said he didn't want to talk, didn't he fucking say that? Because he knew it would end up like this. People can bitch about him for being negative all they like but when it comes down to it, he's right, isn't he? Things do always fuck up. They always break. And sometimes it's just better to stop things before that has a chance to happen. It's something he's always told himself but never quite managed, but this time-

Steve grabs him, pulls him close and wraps his arms around him so tightly Danny can't breathe. He tries to push him off but Steve only loosens his grip a little; he doesn't let go.

"I love you," Steve says, his breath warm against Danny's temple. "I'm _in_ love with you. Have been for - I don't know how long. Way before we started fooling around. I just - I need to fix this, Danny. Tell me how I can fix this."

Danny freezes, even as the words warm him, because he loves Steve too, he loves him so much, and hearing that said aloud makes his eyes well up. But it doesn't make any difference, does it, doesn't make the distance any less.

"Am I one of your broken toys, Steve?"

"Aren't you?"

Danny laughs, then, crumpling against Steve and soaking in his comfort for a moment because yeah, oh yeah, more broken than all the rest. "Pretty sure I'm beyond repair, babe. A lost cause."

"No," Steve says with sudden intensity, pulling back and looking Danny in the eye. "Don't even joke, Danny. You're not a lost cause. You're not beyond repair, please don't say that."

"That's the other _other_ reason this isn't going to work," Danny says, without anger now. He feels shaky as the adrenaline crashes all around him but he needs to say it. This is important, way more important than the words he said in anger. "Me, being so fucked up. You deserve better - let me talk," Danny snaps when Steve tries to interrupt. "You deserve someone - someone who's not going to do _that,_ who isn’t going to yell at you all the time! You deserve someone - sweet, kind. After all the shit you've been through you deserve something _easy_ , and that’s not me."

"I don't want easy! I love that you challenge me! You make me feel alive, Danny - _that's_ what I want. It's what I _need_ , and I didn't realise it until it until you'd gone."

"Steve," Danny begs, needing to make him see, but his resolve is starting to crumble because god, he's still so in love with Steve and it fucking _hurts_ to push him away, even if it's the right thing to do. "I - I don't-"

"You're not beyond repair," Steve says quietly, grabbing Danny's shoulders and looking into his eyes with a determined, never-backing-down expression that Danny knows too well. He opens his mouth to argue but Steve steamrollers over his protests before he can even get a word out. "Maybe we're both damaged but maybe that's why we work so well together - we support each other, we shore each other up. And you're right - five thousand miles is a long way but so what? We've both made long distance relationships work before."

"If you're talking about Gabby, the distance is the exact reason it _didn't_ work! I couldn't deal with it, and I didn't want to put Grace through it, and that hasn't changed-"

"So I'll move over here!"

Danny's mouth is open to argue but Steve's words sink in, or try to. Danny can't quite process what Steve just said. He blinks, and says, "What?"

"Yesterday morning, after I got shot - I called up the naval bases in Jersey, asked if they might have use for someone of my skillset."

Danny stares at him a moment longer and then laughs, feeling slightly hysterical. "You - are you saying you wanna move to Jersey? Seriously?"

Steve smiles then, and shifts his hand from Danny's shoulder to his cheek. "I'm saying I'd move _for_ you, Jersey."

"You're ridiculous," Danny says, and then pulls Steve in for a kiss because what else can you do after an admission like that? "You - after everything you said about Hawai'i being so much better than New-goddamn-Jersey-"

"I stand by it all. But _you're_ here, Danny. Your kids are here, so this is your home. You can't move, but I can."

"You mean it," Danny says quietly, feeling all his objections crumble under the weight of unlooked-for hope; Steve nods.

"I mean it."

"I can't ask you to give up-"

"You're not asking me to do anything here; I'm offering. I'm also going to ignore your protests."

"Yeah, well, you're good at that. But-"

"Exactly. Look - this is something we can talk about. It's not something that's going to happen right away - we'll need to be sure this is gonna work, we should take our time with it and make the decision together. I just need you to know that I'm serious about this, Danny. About you."

"Steve," Danny says helplessly, emotions tumbling through him and colliding like boulders, huge Indiana Jones style ones, threatening to bowl him over or crush him. Hope and joy and fear and doubt but above all, love, he loves this man like nothing else, this man who's offering to give up his tropical paradise home, his beachfront house, his high-profile job and his friends, all for Danny. To be with him. It makes Danny feel unworthy, but the way Steve's looking at him with steel certainty in his eyes bolsters the hope. "C'mere," he says and pulls Steve in to kiss him; Steve wraps his arms around Danny's waist, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together. He takes control, making it a slow burn of a kiss that leaves Danny aching for more. His hands slide under Steve's shirt, needing access to all that gorgeous warm skin, fingers tracing over strong muscle and long scars. More, _more,_ he starts unbuttoning the shirt and Steve grabs his wrists.

"Bedroom?" He's questioning, a little uncertain, but if there is one thing he should never be uncertain about, it's how much Danny wants him.

"Bedroom," Danny agrees, injecting every bit of desire that's thrumming in him into that word, taking Steve's hand and dragging him over. He flicks on the lamp then the heater since it's damn cold, and they're soon to be wearing much less in the way of clothing. That done, he pushes Steve onto the bed and climbs on top of him. "This okay?" He asks, putting a hand to Steve's stomach, where the bruise is barely starting to heal, and Steve nods.

"I think you might be about to take my mind off it."

"I'll certainly do my best," Danny grins and then they're kissing again, Steve's tongue in his mouth, his hardening cock pressed against Danny's. As soon as the room starts warming up Danny sits up, straddling Steve, and pulls his tie off, starts unbuttoning his shirt, but Steve is impatient, apparently, and tugs it open with a sharp jerk, scattering buttons. "What the hell, McGarrett?!"

"I'll sew 'em back on for you," Steve says, but he's already distracted by Danny's torso, running hungry fingers over his belly and chest, teasing his nipples, squeezing them between thumb and forefinger and smiling when Danny moans and rocks his hips forward, cock brushing against Steve's.

"You," Danny gasps when Steve doesn't stop; he knows exactly how sensitive Danny's nipples are, the asshole, and Danny is fully hard now, fully hard and already leaking enough precome that his briefs are uncomfortably damp.

"Me," Steve says, dropping one hand to Danny's cock to squeeze it. "Me, and you're not getting rid of me anytime soon."

"Good," Danny chokes, then drops forward so that his body is pressed against Steve's, so that he can kiss him, thrusting his tongue into his mouth, grinding against him, swallowing Steve's moans. Steve's hands go to his ass and squeeze, making Danny shiver.

"I want-" Steve starts and then moans when Danny bites gently at his jawline. "God, that's - you're distracting, Danny - I want you to fuck me."

Danny jerks back and stares at him. They've never done that. Never even fingered each other. Danny doesn't know why, really - it was too intimate, maybe, too vulnerable, when they didn't know where they stood with each other. But now - they've still not decided anything. But they know they want to be together. Both of them, in deep, all the way. Maybe it _is_ time, and god knows Danny wants it - to fuck Steve, to have Steve fuck him. He wants everything, absolutely everything.

"You sure you're up for it, babe?" Danny asks, tugging up Steve’s shirt so he can run a hand gently over the bruise that's painting Steve's stomach an ugly purple. "If you wanna-" He swallows. "It might be easier for you to fuck me. I could ride you - you'd just lie there and let me do all the work."

"Danny," Steve says, eyes flashing. "I- I want you inside me but that sounds so fucking good. You'd look-" he breaks off and Danny grins, leaning over him to kiss him.

"I'd look amazing, sure, but I guarantee I'll feel even better. And don't you worry, I will happily fuck you, but not while you're still hurting. We've got time, right? This is something I can promise you - I will fuck you before you go back to Hawai'i."

"I'll keep you to that promise, Danny."

"Yeah, you will."

And then Steve is yanking him down for another kiss, deft fingers undoing his belt, his fly, then pulling back, breathing hard. "Wait - do you have-"

Danny leans over to the nightstand, grabbing lube and condoms from the drawer and dropping them onto the bed within easy right. "I was a Boy Scout, Steve - be prepared, right?"

"You were kicked out of the Scouts," Steve reminds him, running a thumb over his hip. "You're also wearing too many clothes."

"So are you," Danny says, but rolls off Steve, first shucking off his own pants and briefs, then stripping Steve as quickly as he can.

Danny takes a moment to look down at Steve in all his naked glory, gaze lingering over his cock, curving slightly over his belly, and feels a thrill at the thought that it's going to be inside him shortly. It's been way, way too long since anyone fucked him; him and Rachel used toys sometimes but the last time a guy fucked him he was in college.

"It's, uh, been a while," Danny says. "So I'll probably need some prepping."

"I will be very glad to help you out with that," Steve says, and twists with a wince to prop himself on pillows. Danny assists then settles back, straddling Steve's hips as he watches Steve squeeze lube onto his fingers. Expectation ramps up inside him, chased by a flutter of nerves.

"You sure about this, D?" Steve asks when his fingers are shining in the lamplight, and Danny nods.

"I'm so sure, Steve. Get those fingers inside me, come on."

"Demanding," Steve says, but obediently reaches around to circle a finger around Danny's hole, cool and slick; then just as Danny's about to snap at him for teasing, he slides in. Danny gasps, shivers, then groans as Steve slowly slides his finger in all the way, fucking him gently with it. "Good?"

"So good," Danny rasps, letting his eyes close and head fall back as he sinks into the feel of it, remembers how much he loves being fingered. "Another."

Steve does as he's asked, and there's a slight burn of pain - Steve's got big damn hands - but it quickly melts away under the heat of pleasure. And then Steve's other hand wraps around Danny's cock, stroking gently, and Danny whines softly, not sure whether to push back onto Steve's fingers or forward into his fist. In the end he does neither, just stays where he is, breathing harder as warmth pools inside him, until he can't take it any more.

"Fuck me," he says, opening his eyes to look down at Steve, who tightens his hand around Danny's cock.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." He grabs the condom and opens the packet with shaking hands before reaching down to slide it over Steve's cock, smiling at the way it makes his eyelids flutter. Danny grabs the lube, too, applying it liberally – while Steve's cock isn't porn-star huge or anything, Danny’s pretty sure it's bigger than anything he's taken before. The thought's thrilling and he grins down at Steve, slick fingers stroking his sheathed cock and enjoying the rumble of his groan.

Danny moves so that he's in position; Steve's fingers are still inside him but he gets the message quickly enough, sliding out and letting the tip of his cock take their place, not pressing in, not yet, just resting; a promise. His hands spread Danny's cheeks and he breathes hard, looking into Danny's eyes.

"I want you so much," Steve whispers.

"So take me," Danny whispers back, then gasps as Steve presses in. _Fuck_ , but he's a lot bigger than those two fingers. It - stretches, burns, _hurts_ -

"Danny?"

"Don't stop!"

-but it's a good hurt, oh god, it means Steve is fucking him, is inside him, it's - it's already almost too much and he feels his eyes watering, but he needs it, needs more.

Steve starts to thrust into him, shallow at first, getting deeper as Danny's body adjusts, accepts him, inch by inch, until finally, Steve's hips meet Danny's ass. His eyes fly open and they stare at each other, open mouthed and breathing hard.

"I'm inside you," Steve says, sounding awed, and Danny nods.

"You feel so good, Steve, it's so good."

And it's - it's so much, so deep and so big, Danny's shaking with it; but he's supposed to be in charge here, he's supposed to be doing the hard work so Steve doesn't have to. Biting his lip, he lifts his hips and then drops back down, fucking himself onto Steve's cock. Both of them moan and he does it again, again, taking Steve so deep, so fucking deep inside him.

"Danny," Steve moans brokenly, and Danny has to kiss him, leaning over him and changing the angle of Steve's cock inside him so that they both moan. He keeps thrusting down onto him, Steve's hips rising to meet him despite Danny's breathless protests, until they get a rhythm going, sliding deep every time, hard, harder, still kissing. Danny's cock is trapped between their bodies and the friction is good but not enough - that's a good thing though, he doesn't want to come, not just yet. He wants this to last forever, this feeling of Steve inside him, filling him, and he says so out loud, voice strained and rough.

"Me too, Danny, so good, so fucking tight," Steve says, crushing their mouths together. "But I need to feel you come," he says, snaking a hand between them to wrap around Danny's cock; he barely has time to get a rhythm before Danny is crying out and coming, hard, taken completely by surprise. The hand on his cock, the cock in his ass, it's too much and the pleasure overwhelms him completely, and he rides out the aftershocks, moaning as Steve continues to fuck him, a little more uncoordinated now with Danny little more than a dead weight on top of him.

"Danny," Steve whispers, kissing, then biting his shoulder. "Danny, Danny, I - I-"

And then he thrusts up, all the way inside him and gives a choked noise as he comes, hips moving ever so slightly the orgasm rips through him, arms so tight that Danny can barely breathe.

They stay there like that, breath slowing, growing deeper. They still hold each other but it's less like they're clinging on for dear life now.

Eventually Danny feels like he's revived enough synapses to lift his head and grin lazily down at Steve, who's looking up at him with a soft but equally lazy smile. "Wow," Danny manages, and Steve laughs before kissing him.

"My thoughts exactly, Danno," he says, and pulls him back down into a hug. They stay like that a while longer until Steve eventually kisses Danny shoulder and suggests a shower.

Still feeling out of it - and blissed out, too - Danny lets Steve take charge; cleaning them up a little, taking care of the condom, going to turn on the water while leaving Danny in bed. Danny stretches, feeling very happy and very lazy - and very lucky. Despite everything, despite how badly he nearly fucked everything up, Steve wouldn't let him. Steve refused to quit on them and Danny's never been so thankful for his stubbornness.

Eventually he stands, winces at the slight ache in his ass, and pads over to the bathroom, where Steve is testing the water.

"Your shower takes forever to heat up," he says, and Danny presses against his back, kissing between his shoulder blades and sliding his arms around his waist.

"I know. The boiler isn't worth shit. My uncle, the one who owns the place, keeps saying he's gonna replace it but it's not happened yet."

Steve turns in Danny's arms and kisses him. "Another reason I'm glad I own the house."

"Renting sucks," Danny agrees, his voice muffled against Steve's chest, and smiles at this, at how comfortable they are with each other, how inane this post-coital conversation is.

The water eventually heats up enough that they can get into the shower, and once they're clean and dry, they change into pyjamas and head over to the sofa, leaning against each other, feeling boneless and happy.

Danny lifts his head to look at Steve; he looks tired but happy, more relaxed that he has since he got here. Kissing him, Danny says, "I'm sorry. For before. I - I'll try to keep a lid on the self destruction."

"Just talk to me, Danny. Before things get out of hand. I'm here for you, always; I want to help."

"I know, babe. I just - I'm kind of a mess."

"And you think I'm not?" Steve looks as serious as Danny's ever seen him. "I still have nightmares about the shit I did as a SEAL, never mind the things I've seen with Five-0. And my mom - I'm still so fucking angry with her, Danny. I think I always will be. You and me, we both come with a ton of baggage but-" He shrugs. "Maybe we can help each other carry it. Help lighten the load when it's dragging us under."

"Yeah," Danny says quietly, and smiles. "I mean, it's worth a shot, right?"

"More than one," Steve agrees, and kisses him. "But for now, can we maybe be done with the drama for the night? I'm exhausted. I just wanna get some takeout delivered and watch shitty TV."

"Sounds like heaven. I'll even let you choose what we get, since you will anyway."

Steve smirks like he's just won a prize, and what the hell, maybe he has.

Maybe they both have.


	13. Chapter 13

Most of Sunday morning is spent in bed, absorbed in each other.

They eventually emerge from the bedroom around midday for food and coffee; they also spend a lot of time grinning at each like idiots. It’s been a damn long time since Danny was just plain _happy_ , no guilt, no negativity lurking anywhere. And why not? Steve loves him and wants to make this work – the thought that it might _not_ work out could pull him down into the shadows, but he refuses to let it drag him down, not while he has Steve here with him, warm and real and smelling of Danny’s shower gel. 

They lounge on the sofa together, drinking coffee, watching TV, chatting interrupted by kissing - one of them losing track of what he was saying and just _having_ to kiss the other; it happens more than once.

It’s a good day.

"I might head over to that boxing gym today," Steve says when he returns to the sofa with fresh coffee, and Danny stares at him.

"Are you kidding? Are you literally kidding? Do I need to remind you of how much you winced when you leaned over to blow me?"

"Seriously, Danny, are you complaining about that?"

"I'm not complaining about that, no; I'm complaining about you being an idiot."

"Danny-"

"You got shot three days ago. You need to heal. End of discussion."

Steve glowers at him, and Danny fully expects the argument to continue. He's ready for it - he's not backing down. Steve always does this, always thinks he's invulnerable, but he _isn't_ , and if Danny has to yell at him to get that fact through his thick skull, he will.

When Steve sighs and nods, and says, "You're right, Danno," Danny wants to pinch himself.

"Don't think I quite caught that, Steven."

"Too bad, I'm not saying it again. For the minute, I think sex with you is all the workout I need."

Danny laughs then, charmed. "Ohhh, you trying to Smooth Dog me, huh?"

"Is it working?"

"It is."

Since neither of them are teenagers anymore and the morning's exertions were pretty exhausting, they settle for making out on the couch. A little later, all that kissing making him feel charitable, Danny relents to a walk around the neighbourhood.

They head out, wrapped in scarfs and gloves and warm coats. Behind his own scarf, Danny hides a grin – he loves seeing Steve in knitwear, it’s such a novelty. 

“Hey,” he says, and snaps a picture on his phone. Steve raises an eyebrow at him. 

“What’s that for?”

“I’m sending it to Kono. I bet she won’t recognise you with all these layers.”

“Honestly, Danno,” Steve says, sounding long-suffering, but he reaches out to give Danny’s hand a quick squeeze so Danny figures he’s not too mad. 

Even when Kono’s reply consists of several lines of _Hahahahahahahahaha_ and then _I’m sending this to everyone,_ he only rolls his eyes, so Danny figures that maybe Steve is as loved-up as he is. 

They walk for a while - even injured, Steve is brimming with pent up energy. Danny can tell he wants to go for a jog or surfing or - or paragliding or some such nonsense, but seriously: injury, slippery ice, freezing cold weather - no. Just no.

"If you're good, I'll let you go to the boxing gym next week," Danny says as they pass it. It's run down, kind of a dive from the outside, missing letters on the sign and peeling paint on the window frame. On the inside the equipment is old but well-maintained, and the regulars are serious - posers go for more upmarket places than this. Steve turns to frown at him.

 _"Let_ me?"

"I'll come with you - spar with you," Danny says, and tries not to feel _too_ pleased at the way Steve's eyes widen, at the way he licks his lips. He clearly finds the idea as hot as Danny does.

"...then I guess I better be good."

They cross the street so that they can go walk through the park. It's a nice place but Danny is suddenly very aware of how inner city it is, and he's hit with a pang of missing Hawai'i - whatever he tells Maddie, he does miss Hawai'i, and not just Steve and his friends. He misses bright blue oceans and lush green mountains. He misses the stunning sunsets and right now, as he wiggles his freezing fingers, he even misses the heat. Looking at Steve out of the corner of his eye, he considers telling him that - but no, he'll be _insufferable_ if he does.

They wander through the park and end up sitting down, watching some kids have a snowball fight. Danny watches with a smile - he and the kids had a great snowball fight out here last week, despite Grace's teenage insistence that it was lame. By the end of it all three of them were smiling, and Danny treated them to hot chocolate, on the proviso that they didn't tell Rachel. Which led to trying to explain to Charlie about the difference between secrets and lies, which would've been easier if Grace hadn't snorted laughter every other sentence. Danny looks at Steve, thinks next weekend maybe they should have a snowball fight, the four of them - Danny and the kids versus Steve because three against one is only fair when the one is a former Navy SEAL.

Steve leans back and puts his arms over the back of the bench, one going behind Danny, fingers idly stroking his back. He tells him about going surfing with Kono and her friends a few weeks ago and being thoroughly shown up by them all.

"A strange and rare occurrence for you, huh, babe? Not being the best at everything?"

"Most of them are still professionals," Steve says with a shrug. "And you know how good Kono is."

"The best," Danny says with a warm smile, missing Hawai'i all over again. "Tell me something, something about what you guys have been up to without me."

Steve looks at him for a few moments but then acquiesces, telling him about a few of the weirder cases since Danny left. It makes him miss Five-0 something fierce. When he says it aloud, Steve squeezes his shoulder.

"Your job's always going to be there for you, Danny, if you come home."

Danny opens his mouth to argue, but the way his heart aches at hearing Steve call O'ahu, and Five-0, _home_ , says more than his shallow excuses would.

"You know it's not that simple, Steve."

"I know. But it's still true, and I want you to know."

Danny looks at him then, and he's got the sort of zen expression on his face that at once makes Danny mad at him and also kind of desperately in love with him. Danny just smiles and moves closer, leaning against him a little, letting Steve put his hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you," Danny says, and even though he's not looking at him, he just knows he's got a goofy smile on his face.

When they get back, they have a nap. Steve's not a napping type of guy, so that more than anything else proves he’s actually still healing, whatever he says. Danny's not usually a napper either, but having Steve's warmth by his side in bed is too inviting. Putting his book down, he curls up to Steve and falls asleep within minutes.

Although it's only been an hour or so, it's dark when they wake. Steve wakes first, pulling Danny out of sleep when he drapes an arm over his waist and kissing his shoulder. All things considered, it's not the worst way to wake.

"You interrupted a great dream," Danny grouses anyway, but Steve just grins and kisses him. He knows better than anyone that Danny's natural state is complaining, it doesn't mean anything.

They kiss slow and long, nipping at each other's lips, running hands through hair, trailing kisses along necks and jaws and collarbones.

Eventually they pull apart. Half-hard as he is, Danny's tempted to suggest they take this a step further, but no; whatever is going to happen between them before Steve goes home, it's about a lot more than just sex.

"Let's go out for dinner," Danny says, giving a crooked smile. "I'm letting you take me on a date."

"A date?" Steve stares at him.

"And you're paying."

"I - yes. I'll pay," Steve says, and Danny's startled by his eagerness. It's good though - maybe they are on the same page after all.

They roll out of bed and start to get dressed, while Danny thinks of somewhere to go. His first thought is a fancy Chinese place in the Village, his and Rachel's go-to for special date nights. But no - he doesn't want to infect his and Steve's budding relationship with what he and Rachel had, not even for the best egg rolls in the Northeast.

Italian, he thinks instead. They could even head over to Jersey and go to Tony's Ristorante, Danny's life-long favourite. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea. Back in Hawai'i, Steve wanted to show Danny the pleasures of the islands. New Jersey might not be as pretty as Hawai'i, but Tony's has a great view of Manhattan, and the food is to die for. There's even a couple healthy things on the menu in case Steve can’t bear the thought of a carb overload.

"I'm thinking we go to this place in Hoboken," he tells Steve. "Italian joint - I've been going there since I was a kid. The food's fanastic, and that's not just nostalgia talking, you can check the Yelp reviews. Plus it's got a view out over the Hudson - hey, what's this look for, huh?"

Steve's got this grin on his face, that soft goofy smile that always makes Danny's heart swell.

"You're sharing one of your favourite places with me?"

"Well, yeah, why wouldn't I? I'm a sharer, Steve. And besides, I remember how much you shared with me in Hawai'i, showing me places you went with your dad when you were a kid; now I get to do the same."

The grin gets even goofier, and he reaches out for Danny, pulling him in for a kiss. It's a nice kiss, and a little naughty, too - Steve slides his hands down Danny's back and squeezes his ass, making Danny groan.

"You gonna put out after our date, Danny?" Steve asks, his lips brushing against Danny's. He swallows.

"You think I'm that kinda girl, McGarrett?"

"I've _met_ you, so yeah," Steve says, and there's nothing sweet about the kiss this time. Danny has to literally push Steve off him, else he's going to throw him onto the bed.

"You remain an animal, Steven," Danny says, and Steve just gives him a cocky grin.

They manage to finish getting ready without further ado. Miracle of miracles, Steve actually brought a nice shirt and trousers with him, which makes Danny narrow his eyes at him suspiciously.

"You brought that when you could've packed another pair of cargoes and some – some paracord or something?"

"I wanted to be prepared for any eventuality, Danny."

"Including the one where you dress up so nice my ma would approve of you?"

"Your ma already approves of me."

Danny tsks. "Don't remind me."

It doesn't make sense for Steve to drive since he doesn't know they way, but Danny lets him do it anyway, since it makes him happy. They find a parking spot a block away from the restaurant, and cross the road to take in the view of Manhattan. The wind off the Hudson is freezing, and it provides a good excuse for them to huddle up as they look out at the sparkling lights across the water.

It's pretty romantic, if Danny says so himself, but the cold means they can't enjoy it for long. They head to the restaurant, and Danny sighs in relief when they're in the warmth.

"Danny Williams!" Tony says, coming forward with a broad grin and slapping his shoulder. "Good to see you, man! How's your ma and pa? Your kids?"

"They're good, Tony, thanks. You got a table for two? Maybe with a view of the city?"

"Oh?" Tony asks, looking up at Steve then back at Danny with a questioning eyebrow. Thing is, Tony knew Danny was bi before he even told his parents. Sixteen years old, he brought his first kinda-sorta boyfriend here, and Tony pegged it immediately, gave them a window seat with a candle in a jar and a rose in a bottle, gave Danny an encouraging smile. Danny had been terrified of coming out to his folks before that, but seeing Tony's unquestioning acceptance made it easier, and Danny's never forgotten that. He gives a slight nod, and Tony grins at him, ushering them over to the best table in the house, with a great view and also near the open fire for warmth and for ambience.

"Nice place," Steve says, and Danny nods.

"Yeah. It sure is."

They get a bottle of red as they peruse the menu, and there's much in the way of flirtatious glances over the menu, it’s like they're goddamn teenagers. Steve's leg brushes Danny under the table, but whether that's more flirting or just because he’s got those long dancer’s legs, Danny honestly couldn't say.

"So is this our first actual date?" Steve asks once they've ordered.

"Are you kidding?"

"I know we went out for drinks a few times after we slept together but I didn't really think of those as dates."

"Alright, but what about before that?"

Steve looks at him blankly.

"You know, I'm not exactly one for introspection," Danny says, finishing his wine and pouring himself another glass, topping up Steve's. "But I've done a lot of thinking about what the hell we've been doing over the years."

"Oh?"

"And Kono's made some remarks, too. And Chin. And Lou, actually. I'm pretty sure they've been talking about us."

"I'm absolutely certain they have."

"Yeah. Anyway. We always did stuff together, the two of us, that we never did with anyone else. Things got rocky there towards the end, but- I mean stuff like when we went hiking up to see those - what are they called? Hieroglyphs?"

"Petroglyphs. You mean when we found that body?"

"And you broke your arm. I swear, that was - oh, about the tenth time you'd nearly given me a heart attack."

"So - finding a body like that - what, was that romantic to you?"

"No! Jesus, Steve, shut up and listen for once in your life. And then we went fishing-"

"I went fishing with Chin, too."

"Was it the same?"

"No," Steve says softly. "The closest to that day was when I went out on the boat with Lynn."

That was after Danny had left for New York, but Kono's kept him informed about Steve's many misadventures. "Wait, didn't you also find a body with her? Is that your thing, Steve? Dead bodies on dates?"

Steve reaches across to smack his arm. "That sounds incredibly creepy and no, we didn't find a body. We found a plane. We got shot at, but there were no bodies."

"See, that's why you two didn't last."

 _"Danny,"_ Steve says, sounding a little exasperated but mostly fond. "Can we not talk about my ex right now? Please?"

"You'd rather talk about something else?"

"I'd rather enjoy my first actual date with you. With no bodies, please, if that's an option."

"I'll see what I can do, but this is New Jersey, babe," Danny says with a smirk.

The food is as good as Danny promised, the company even better. He's never been comfortable with anyone the way he is with Steve. Maybe it's because they've been friends for years; whatever it is, the conversation is easy and free, and there's definitely a bit of footsie under the table.

"Well," Steve says when they get back to the car. "Whether this was our first date or not, it was a damn good one."

"Agreed," Danny says, and after a pause, reaches over to kiss Steve gently. "Now get us home, McGarrett, so you can see if I'm gonna put out."

Steve grins and then breaks the speed limit on the way back to Brooklyn.

For once, Danny doesn't mind.


	14. Chapter 14

After how awesome Sunday was, Monday was always going to be a let down. 

It's even worse than that. 

"But - I don't have a name," Owens says in the interrogation room, looking at them with wide eyes. Steve is frowning down at him; Nolan is looking impassive, years of courtrooms giving him excellent control over his expressions. Danny's not sure what his own face is doing, but impassive has never really been his thing. He wants to punch Owens for leading them on this useless chase. 

"The deal only stands if you have valuable information," Nolan reminds him, and Owens nods quickly, leaning forward, a little too eager. 

"The bank details, the letters - they _are_ valuable information," Owens says, desperation leaking into his voice. "That's all I've got. Look - that girl cop, she's gone to get the letters-"

"Don't call her a _girl cop_ ," Danny snaps, temper fraying dangerously. "Have some respect."

"I - yes. Sorry," Owens says, and licks his lips. "But when she gets back, you'll see the letters - there's a lot of information in them, okay? And you might get fingerprints or DNA or something, right?"

"You'd better hope we do," Steve says, and heads for the door. After a glance at Nolan, seeing annoyance hidden in the depths of his gaze, Danny follows. Steve's standing outside, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and frustration written in the lines on his forehead. It's so deeply familiar, something that happened outside the rendition room in Hawai'i a hundred times, that Danny's brain trips over the echoes. 

"Those letters better be a damned goldmine," Danny grumbles, looking away. Steve's too distracting, he's always been too distracting, but even more so after a weekend like that one, the taste of Steve, his moans and gasps, too fresh in Danny's mind. 

"I thought we were getting close," Steve says. "Dubois led us straight to Owens - we should've known it was too easy."

Danny nods, shoving his thoughts back on track. "I guess the question is, did Dubois know that Owens was just a patsy, or was he fooled along with the rest of us?"

"You know the players better than me, Danny - what do you think?"

Raising an eyebrow, Danny cocks his head and smirks at him. "What's this - Steve McGarrett admitting that he doesn't know everything?" Steve doesn't rise to the bait, other his lips thinning in annoyance; it only serves to make Danny want to kiss him. _Not helpful_. "Alright, alright - I think Dubois is on the level. As level as a gang member can be, anyway. Like I said, he's always been incredibly loyal to Yale."

"Loyalties change."

"They do, sure, but the 718s, they've got this mafia loyalty thing going on, like with the yakuza. Besides, Dubois, he's old-fashionied, in case his fashion sense didn't tip you off. He knows what he likes, likes what he knows - a Pacific expansion just isn't in character for him."

After a moment, Steve nods. "And you think Owens is telling the truth?"

"I'm thinking that's all we're getting from him, truth or not. We'll just have to see what these letters have to say and hope it's something good."

Nolan comes out of the interrogation room then; the slight frown, on him, suggests extreme frustration. It's not a surprise - he's stuck his neck on the line bringing this to his boss and getting him to agree to a deal despite his hard line on drugs. He's in the shit if this doesn't pan out. They all are. Even more frustrating is the niggling feeling that they're missing something, something obvious that they're too close to see, or maybe they're looking in the wrong direction, but try as he might, he just can't put his finger on it. 

Maddie calls then, saying she's got the letters, she's on her way to forensics with them. Danny agrees to meet her there, and agrees to update Nolan the moment he knows anything. 

"I hope it's good news, Detective."

"At this point, I'll take any news."

===

The forensics department is bustling, as always, people in lab coats buzzing around like bees. It's a strange place, a mix of old and new, where top-of-the-line and state-of-the-art sit side by side with things that were maybe cutting edge around the same time as moveable type. It's some of the higher ups, Danny's heard, old guys who refuse to retire and don't trust computers battling against bright young things with big ideas. 

And while crime rates might be down in New York, the forensics department is always busy. Everyone has in-trays filled with days worth of work, but the ire of a former Navy SEAL is not to be underestimated. In a matter of minutes, Steve gets one of the techs to agree to scan the letters and email them over along with a promise to prioritise the tests. 

"Impressive, Steven," Danny says as they head back to their cars. Steve looks down at Danny with humour dancing in grey-blue eyes that absolutely do not make butterflies flap manically in Danny's belly. 

"I'm always impressive, Danny, you of all people should know that."

"Honestly," Danny mutters, rolling his eyes, but the word is dripping fondness and they both know it. 

From the way Maddie is looking at them, she knows it too. 

"You two seem much friendlier than you did on Saturday."

"Danno realised he was being an asshole," Steve says, and Danny jabs him with his elbow. 

"I realised that maybe I was being a little too sensitive. _Maybe."_

"What, you?! No way," Maddie says with a wicked grin she doesn't even try to hide, and Danny puts a dramatic hand to his chest. 

"Betrayal, everywhere. I thought you guys were my friends."

"I think Steve's a bit more than that, hmm?" Maddie says, and Danny gives the loudest sigh he can, but she only laughs, and then nudges him with her elbow. "Which is a good thing, Danny. I'm glad for you."

"Yeah," Danny says, looking up at Steve and smiling at him; getting one of those damn goofy smiles in response. "I'm glad for me, too."

Maddie's in her Taurus, so she heads for that as Danny and Steve get into the Camaro. It's due to snow this afternoon but it's not started yet. Instead it's cold, freezing cold, and Danny cranks up the heat as Steve sets off. 

The emails from forensics arrive a half hour after they get back to the office. It's long enough for Captain Murphy to grouse at Danny and Steve about the lack of progress on the case, and to demand that they get answers and soon. The fact that they've got Owens in custody isn't impressing her - she's getting an earful from the DA too, along with the governor and her boss, so Danny gets it, but the yelling - it really doesn't help. He just about manages not to yell back, though it's a struggle. Steve's the one who replies instead, staring straight ahead, back stiff, like he's reporting to a CO he doesn't like. The clipped responses are clearly pissing Murphy off, but they're giving her no ammunition. 

"Dismissed," she says, and Danny is glad to escape. 

"Please tell me I was a better boss than that," Steve says as they head back to Danny's desk. 

"I have never once in my life thought of you as my boss," Danny says. "A pain in my ass, a reckless jackass, an animal, a neanderthal-"

Steve smiles down at him like he's said something endearing, and that fondness, that goddamn fondness will be the death of Danny, doesn't Steve know that Danny is trying his damnedest to be professional here? "I know you well enough to know that those are compliments coming from you, Danno."

"They are _not_ compliments," Danny says, horrified that Steve could think such a thing. "Please don't tell me that's what you've been thinking all this time."

"Sorry to interrupt," Maddie says, giving them a smirk that reminds Danny way too much of Kono. "But I just got the email from forensics with scans of the letters."

Danny and Steve crowd around her computer as they look at them. 

There are a total of twelve letters, so they split them up between them. Most of them are fairly short and boring - bank details, unimaginative threats - but there's a couple that pique Danny's interest. 

For a start, some of them refer to amounts of money that they've not been looking at - smaller amounts but still in the tens of thousands. Cross referencing it to Owens's accounts, they see the transfers were made nearly a year ago.

"Nice of Owens to mention this," Danny's says with a frown as he flicks through the bank records from Owens's overseas account, provided reluctantly at Nolan's insistance. 

"I don't think we directly asked him that question," Steve says, and Danny tuts, glancing up at him.

"It's like that, huh?"

"I mean - I can't say I really blame him for not wanting to implicate himself beyond what we already knew," Maddie says. She's looking at the documents on a tablet, highlighting them and scribbling notes with a stylus - way more high tech than Danny's hardcopy method with actual highlighters. "But at the same time - he must have known we were going to find this."

"Never underestimate how little criminals think of law enforcement," Danny says. "Or how much they think of themselves." 

He sits back with a sigh, putting his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling while he tries to get his thoughts in order. 

"So," he says, thinking out loud. "Owens gets blackmailed, transfers the money from Pollit to his overseas account, then it ends up with Viano. Is it that simple? Was Viano the blackmailer?"

"I don't think so," Maddie says slowly, and Danny lets her meander through her thoughts out loud. "I mean - from what we've seen of him, he was a pretty simple guy and this all seems way too complex. Having the money transferred from Owens directly to him, that's none too smart, which - okay, I don't think Viano was going to be winning a Nobel anytime soon, but the guy must have had streetsmarts to survive this long. But then there were those guns..." 

She shakes her head and pulls up Viano's account, cross-references with the amounts and dates from Owens's accounts and finds that they match, followed by either withdrawals - which would explain the guns - or transfers to a Hong Kong account. 

"But who does _that_ belong to?" She asks, slumping back in her chair with a sigh. 

"It could be payments for these Asian drugs," Steve suggests. "Rather than an offshore account for someone in the US."

"Could be," Danny agrees. "But without being able to get names we're kinda stuck."

"We could go in person-"

"No, Steven, don't even finish that thought," Danny says, holding up a hand. "They won't give it to us and you know it. You're thinking about doing something of dubious legality and once more I'll say this: you do not have immunity and means here."

"But we wouldn't _be_ here-"

 _"McGarrett,"_ Danny hisses, glaring at him. The affection has ebbed and genuine annoyance - along with a too-familiar spark of fear that Steve is going to do something truly stupid - rises up in its place. Before they can gear up for a full-on argument, though, Maddie speaks up. 

"If we can't come at it from that angle, maybe we should take a closer look at Viano," she suggests. "Even if he's not the blackmailer, he's clearly involved. If we look at his life, maybe that'll give us more to work with."

"Brilliant," Danny says, feeling proud. There it is - making links like that is why she's going to be a great cop, is already a great cop. She keeps things flexible, her quick mind looking at things from every angle. Him and Steve, they're more experienced, sure, but there's way more to police work than that, and sometimes experience can dull your edge. "If we can't get details of who the money was going to, we might still be able to get some clues from digging deeper into Viano's day to day."

"Phone logs, acquaintances," Steve says. "His apartment building have cameras?"

Danny thinks back to the dive and the super who couldn't give less of a shit about his tenants and shakes his head. "I very much doubt it, but we can check it out."

"I have a CI from my days on the beat that might know something," Maddie suggests. "Low level drug dealer - probably ran in some of the same circles as Viano, might even have known him."

"Good, try that. Steve - could you send this info to Chin and ask him to take a look? It'll be quicker than waiting on the techs here, and he'll probably do a better job, too."

"Good call," Steve nods and gets to it. 

"And I'll start with the phone logs, see who he was in touch with."

With all three of them at work, Danny feels the energy change, feels the mood shift from frustration to hope, the thumping energy of having leads to chase. 

Turns out that most of Viano's phone calls are pretty boring - take out, utility companies, his mom over up in Queens. There's a surprising lack of any personal communication, which makes him think that Viano must have another phone somewhere. A bit of inspiration makes him check the mother's address, and sure enough, there's another number registered there. The phone calls on that number are much more interesting. At least ten calls a day and dozens of texts, most of them in a rudimentary sort of code. 

Danny reads through a few of them and gets the gist - it's not exactly sophisticated. Mostly it seems like the texts are from customers - times and dates, amounts of cash and drugs both, types of drug. _0.5g h_ where the _h_ is probably heroin - _$120 2/4 15:00 22nd St_ is the how much, the when and the where. Most of the numbers are probably burner phones, if the customers have any sense, but some will be real numbers, Danny's sure. He's less sure, though, that any of them will be involved in this mess. This might be of interest to narcotics, but not to him. 

"I've sent everything over to Chin on secure channels," Steve says. "He'll process it and get back to us as soon as possible."

"And I've arranged a meeting with my CI," Maddie says. "In a couple of hours at the Starbucks on 88th and Broadway."

"Great, I could do with some caffeine," Danny says, and Maddie shakes her head, her dark eyes serious. 

"I've not seen him for a couple years, I don't want to spook him. I should go alone, Danny"

"Yeah, that's not going to happen. Me and Steve will just happen to be there, enjoying a cute little coffee date so we've got your back if you need it."

"A Starbucks, Danny? You take me to the most romantic places," Steve says, deadpan, and Danny slaps his hand gently; just that contact is enough to set off those butterflies in his stomach, and Danny's smiling, even as he says, 

"Keep that up and you're paying, schmuck."

"I'll expense it," Steve shoots back.

"Damn right you will."

Maddie, who'd been looking unsure, breaks and laughs at them. She leans forward, resting her head in her hands. "Do you two ever _not_ bicker?"

"We don't bicker," they say at the same time, and then grin at each other; Maddie only shakes her head. Danny can only imagine what they look like to the uninitiated, though they've had enough _how long have you been married_ s over the years to give him a clue. 

"Fine, fine - have your date," she says, still grinning. "I think I can trust you not to get made. Because, who am I to come between such an epic romance?"

"Exactly," Danny says and smiles, not just because the idea of a second official date with Steve makes him feel warm inside. 

Maybe that, a little, but mostly the fact that he's got a good feeling about Maddie's idea - it feels like they're on the right track. 

Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient! I've been kinda struggling mental health-wise this year but I'm finally feeling better so I think we're back on track.
> 
> Thanks so much for all your support, your comments and kudos mean the world, seriously, and I'll reply as soon as I can <3


End file.
